Tainted Dreams
by Wyldehart
Summary: Four years have passed for Ferelden's royal couple. Elissa and Alistair have suddenly found themselves stuck between Elissa's duties as Warden Commander and Alistair's need to protect the baby within her. Violence and sex! You are warned.
1. Chapter 1

**Tainted Dreams**

**Revelations in the Night (Prologue)**

_Elissa Cousland stood before the Landsmeet after Alistair's winning the noble's favor and having defeated Loghain in a duel. Blood and the former regent's head lay on the floor near Alistair's feet, his chest heaving and blood dripping from his armor. She had just chosen Alistair to rule and made the bid to be his wife and rule by his side. The nobles were accepting of the plan but Alistair was blinking at her, all but spitting his rage. "What do you mean, '**rule** by **my** side?' What gives you that right? Just because you are a Teryn's daughter, that does not make you anymore qualified to my queen than any other Bann or Arl's get! I could marry Anora if I wanted! But you have no right to dictate to me whom I will marry! How **dare** you!"_

_She stared back at him, chilled to the core. "But I thought- I assumed that we-!"_

_"You **assumed**! That's your problem. You make too many assumptions. Make them about yourself. I am **finished** with you." He then walked over to her and backhanded her with such force that she was thrown through the air. "Get out! We don't need your aid against the Darkspawn or the Archdemon! I have what I need and you have done what you had to do. Now go!"_

_"Alistair! **NO**! I love you! We love each other! Don't do this to us!" she screamed from the floor. "I love you! You can't mean this! It cannot be real. Please, let this be another nightmare. Please, let this be another nightmare…" Alistair stood over her, frowning down at her. "I wish we'd never met…" he growled._

_**"No! No! NO! NOOOOO! ALLLIIISSSTAIRRRR…!"**_

* * *

"…lissa, Elissa, wake up, Love. It was just a horrible nightmare. I'm here. It's alllright. Stop screaming, now. I love you and I'm not going anywhere, not without you. There's my girl… Open your eyes, sweet wife. Ahhh. That's what I want to see. Hold me. Go ahead and cry. Shhh. There you go. Let it out. What was it this time, hmm?" She clung to him with the determination of frightened child. He held her just as tightly in return. He was naked and that tactile contact was a relief to her embattled soul.

"Th-th-the l-l-landsmeet again…" she sobbed against him. She was finding it hard to breathe. He pressed his cheek into her red hair and made gentle soothing noises not unlike what a parent would make to a distressed child. He was very worried. For a few weeks now, his wife had been having these strange dreams that were so vivid, she often sat up in bed, screaming. It was only with a lot of cuddling and reassurance that she could pull herself out of them. It was very much unlike her. He enjoyed being needed but stressed over why.

He waited for her sobs to still before asking about the nightmare. "So. It was one of those ones where my temperament is like **Morrigan's** on a **good** day, right?" He nuzzled her jaw and chewed her ear gently, trying to coax a smile from her.

"Y-y-yes…" she heaved, her neck stretching out to expose more of it to his nibbles and playful kisses. He carefully kissed her eyes and cheeks, wiped away the tears that spilled forth and just doing what he could to make her know how beloved she was.

"Ahh. It must have been the one where you were '**licking** my **lamppost**' and I whined about your technique, which I love by the way. Nobody **else** does it better than you…" He waited for the reaction that came a bit late due to her emotional state.

"'Nobody… **Else**?'" she growled with a raised eyebrow and a few determined sniffles.

"Ah… Did I say that? I meant nobody. Nobody, period! Right! Right. Okay, so it wasn't that one? Oh, I know which one it was! It's the one where Morrigan does her crazy sex ritual thing on me and this time, I keep my eyes open and I **may** have even enjoyed it. **That** little scenario gives me dry heaves just **thinking** about it." He shuddered and pulled Elissa into his lap, drawing her as tightly against him as he could. He thought he heard a chuckle.

"No? Not that one either? Hmm. Let me think… Oh! I got it! It's that one where I dump you in favor of a little 'hard core' sex with **Shale** just to see what it's like getting stuck between a rock and a hard place!" Now she was laughing and punching his chest lightly with her fists. That one was the one that never failed. He smiled. He didn't have to ask anything more about the nightmare because he knew which one it was. He had listened to her end for more than ten minutes as he was calming her down. Of the dark dreams, that one was the worst and the most common. Alistair just wished he knew why.

He pulled her back under the covers and held her against him. "Princess Consort, Elissa Cousland Thierin, I am your husband and I have been for four years. I am never going to leave you and I swear that you will always have my love, no matter what. I made you that vow on our wedding day and I shall hold true to it until after I die."

That earned him a full kiss on the mouth and additional tears, this time of joy. It was those tears he liked to see and he tucked her alongside him so that he could smile into her blue-green eyes. He could barely see them in the faint moonlight filtering through the window but he knew they were there. "I had never felt more complete until the day I first admitted my feelings for you. Knowing that you felt the same brought me such joy that I thought I would never be sad again. And you know what? I was right. You have been perfect for me in every sense since we met. You have been my partner, my lover, my friend and the rock that keeps me firm in the things I must do. Your advice alone is worth the world to me. In fear of sounding cliché, I believe that I would be lost without you. So, I guess you're stuck with me! Until Shale pops back up… She gives me that rocky stare and my limbs just turn all to jelly. Heh heh. You going to be okay, my love?"

He felt her nod against his shoulder and then, quite unexpectedly, she rose up onto her hands and laid her body on top of his, her legs straddling his hips. She pulled him up into a seated position and proceeded to kiss him passionately."You will never be cliché, Alistair." Then she started doing things with her hand that made him gasp. Within moments, he was inside her, their hips rolling gently and his fingers entwined in her hair as he spread his mouth across her bare breasts. Those fiery locks were now grown past her shoulders and gave him something to grab as they made love. How he loved her hair, its softness and its spicy-sweet scent. She ran her lips along his jaw, down his throat and across his strong shoulders. His body was a chiseled masterpiece of solid perfection and she loved how it felt against her, around her, inside of her…

"You never fail to make me smile, my love… No matter how terrible I feel." she whispered as they joined their bodies in the heat that earliest morning inspired. Lately, Elissa had become insatiable. Not that he minded but even as passionate as Gray Wardens usually are, his queen was even more so than usual. Fortunately, Alistair had proven himself time and again to be more than capable of satisfying her every physical need. He marveled at his own staying power as she would frequently end one romp and leap lustfully right into the next. He was rather enjoying it even as he questioned its source.

Later, curled up in each other's arms, Alistair settled his head into the thick collection of pillows the pair had joined into one heap at the head of their huge bed. After months of sleeping in tiny tents, shared bed-rolls and narrow hostel beds together, they never quite adapted to the opulence of having one massive bed, even after four years of marriage preceded by six months of living in the castle prior to their grand wedding. They still slept practically on top of one another.

He sighed happily and traced his fingertip round and round one of her fat, red nipples. She was extremely perky this morning and he loved it. "Mmm. Keep that up and you're going to finish what you start… With your tongue," she muttered contentedly. He didn't stop and instead he gifted her with amused grin. "Maker forbid!" he gasped, melodramatically.

"I'm warning you, evil man…"

"Doubtless you're capable of following through…"

"Don't test me!"

He eagerly tested her by wrapping his tongue around it next. Moments later, his head was between her thighs and he was contentedly pleasuring his wife with all the skill he'd acquired in more than five years of being her lover. It took almost no time to make her scream his name into the ceiling. He loved that scream. It was the sound of a happy woman and the longer he could prolong it, the more it aroused him. How he loved the way she tasted, the way she felt around him when they made love immediately after. Even though he was curious about why she was so sexual these days, he wasn't going to question the good fortune it brought.

Finally, after a great deal (and at least two hours) of prolonged, vigorous love-making, Alistair asked her about her opinion on the subject. He was exhausted and lay with her head upon his chest. She was half asleep. Even if she had wanted to, he doubted he could coax much life from his over-used body. "Sooo… I'm not complaining but… Why have you become so aroused by me lately? Don't get me wrong; I rather like it but it is a bit unusual, don't you think?"

She kept her eyes closed and muttered darkly, "Sounds like you're complaining…"

"No, no, I'm not! I'm- Andraste's Sword, woman! But you're wearing me out! You've always been quick to jump me at every turn but these days, I think if you could get away with it, you would lock our bedroom door and molest me sunup to sundown!"

Elissa rubbed his chest with her hand, stroking the fine knots of muscle and teasing his nipples to firmness. "Hmmm! Now **there's** an idea! Fine. Here's an answer for you. Maybe I find you handsome, with an amazing body and a sweet disposition," she replied in an absent-minded tone of voice. "And you're pretty good at this sex-thing! Hard to believe you were this shy, awkward virgin just five years ago…"

He laughed nervously before sighing deeply, his nose in her hair and his fingers curled about her shoulder. "And you're not telling me everything, my love. I know you all too well and I know when you've been chewing on something you aren't sure you want to discuss."

"Am I so transparent?" she chuckled.

"Painfully so. Spit it out."

"Okay, okay. So, the nightmares and my increased sexual appetites are not the only 'symptoms' I have been having lately. The others I have been very good about keeping to myself. My appetite, for example…"

"You've been ravenous! Last night I overheard you ask our night-servant for a late meal and I saw what he brought you!** That** was no snack, my love. It's like you're adjusting to the taint all over again." Alistair heard her gasp against him and felt her arms wrap around his waist, holding him tight against her.

"I… Thought you were sleeping…"

"I was until you got out of bed. I'm fine-tuned to your every movement and you just can't go anywhere without rousing me." _'Or __**arousing**__ me… I love watching you walk about our room in the nude. What an amazing body my love has…!'_

"Oh. Well, yes, I have been very hungry of late. And I have these cravings for the strangest foods! And I have been… throwing up. Practically on a daily basis. Sometimes, all I have to do is smell something and my stomach turns. Take my favorite breakfast for example. You know what I like, don't you?" He curled his fingers in her hair absently and kissed her forehead as she searched his eyes. He nodded. "Well, the poached egg sits on a circle of toast with a piece of ham crowning it. All over it is poured this amazing yellow butter cream sauce that is so delicious! Well, I went to eat it the other morning and I saw the sauce, smelled the sauce and… Promptly had to throw-up. I… Did not make it to the kitchen wash-basin." Alistair made a soft, "Eeeewww" sound as she rested her chin on his chest, looking up at him guiltily.

"Mattea looked right at me and said, 'Young lady, I suggest you see a healer.' I said, 'Clearly. You have a recommendation, I take it?' She nodded and said, 'Yes, I do. She has no name but if you look for her in the Alienage, she goes by "the Midwife". She's an old apostate who is fine-tuned to the medical needs of women.' And I said…"

Alistair bolted up-right, pulling Elissa up with him, his eyes huge in the darkness. "Whoa, whoa whoa! Hold on a minute! 'The midwife?' But midwives service pregnant women! Are you saying that Mattea thinks… That you might be… That we could be… **PREGNANT**?" He was holding her by her shoulders and gazing into her face with such joy that she was laughing in spite of her stomach's rumbling. Even in the dark, she could see the tears spilling out of his eyes.

"Mattea thinks I am. She is sure of it." Elissa draped her arms about his neck as he searched her face with his eyes.

He was so happy and so relieved by this news that he was crying. He couldn't remember the last time he shed tears but this was a fine reason to do so now. "If you are pregnant, imagine how greatly simplified things will be. Lately, I've had every Bann and Arl shoving their daughters at me in the hopes I'll sire a bastard on one of them. It's driving me insane. With **you** carrying my child, we'll have the necessary heir and I can live and breathe again without this weight on my shoulders. But I wonder how…? We Gray Wardens are not normally able to reproduce together, you know. I've never heard of it, anyway."

"On that I have a theory. Do you remember Soldier's Keep? Remember the old blood-mage, Avernus, we allowed to live there in the hopes he would someday solve some of the problems we Wardens have concerning the Taint? The research he was doing?"

Alistair nodded. He had personally disagreed with letting the mage live but had kept his comments to himself on the matter. The mage was doing them a service, after all. Or so he told himself. "Like eminent death after thirty years? Not something an heirless king needs, mind you. What happened?"

"Well, a couple of years ago, I went to him to see if he had anything new to tell us and he did. It wasn't much but what he had was encouraging. He complained about the part of our agreement that keeps him from using blood magic."

"Hm! Not surprising there. I remember that visit. When you returned, you seemed thoughtful, if I recall. But your report was vague. You mentioned progress but left out the 'what' part. And you evaded my questions. I figured it was 'Warden Commander' business and dropped it."

"Well, while I was there I explained that we, you and I, needed an heir and if he knew of some way to make it possible for us to conceive. I figured he would have some theories, being a Warden himself and all, you know?"

Alistair held up his hand. "Wait, wait… That was your reason for going there? Surely not."

She blinked at him. "No, it wasn't my only reason. I wanted an update on his research and to make certain he wasn't killing or torturing anyone. He was behaving himself. Anyway, he gave me something to drink. Not a guarantee but he said it couldn't hurt. He didn't tell me what it was, though. Just for me to drink it. So… I did. He reassured me it wasn't anything that I, as a Templar or Gray Warden, would find objectionable. And now I have all the symptoms of pregnancy that you can imagine. I just haven't had the nerve to see the Midwife yet. Not without you."

Alistair laughed and crushed her against him. "You, dear lady, not have the **nerve**? Have you suddenly become me?"

She hugged him back and hoped she could match the excitement of his embrace. "So… You want to find out for sure?"

Against her neck, there was wetness where Alistair's face rested against her shoulder. He was shaking lightly. "I… don't need an apostate healer to tell me what my heart already knows. I'm going to be a… a father! Me! Wow…"

They fell back on the bed and for a moment, Elissa thought Alistair would be ready to sleep again but no, he wasn't. His excitement was palpable and he couldn't contain it. He crawled away from her and carefully lit the oil lamp that rested on the night-stand next to the bed. The room was awash in gold light. He then crawled back over to the center of the bed where she lay under the covers. Elissa observed him closely as he lifted the covers away from her naked body. "Ahem, my love? What do you think you're doing?"

His hands cupped her belly, touching it, caressing it and staring at it from every angle. "If you're trying to arouse me, you're failing. That's not one of my happy places." He stuck his tongue out at her defiantly. "Oh, yes! That only proves I'll be raising twins if you keep up that level of maturity," she grinned down at him.

"You have a belly, Love. You're clearly showing! You've always had this line in between your muscles and it's gone." He traced a fingertip from just under her ribcage down to the ruby 'jewel' that crowned her shapely thighs. It tickled and she giggled. "You have a hill there now. A nice, sloping hill…" He leaned over and kissed her belly. Even though he looked ridiculous, she couldn't help but feel giddy at the sight of him so happy. One of Alistair's great life-long hopes had been to have a family. He now had one. A real one. And he was right. They really didn't need the mage to tell them what they already knew but Elissa had questions. She had responsibilities and she hoped that she could continue to do them in spite of being pregnant. And what about the baby's health? With the taint from two Gray Wardens in its blood, what ways could it be affected?

Eventually, Alistair curled up beside Elissa with his head resting on her stomach and a contented smile on his face. Somehow, he fell asleep that way and Elissa too slept more soundly than she had in days. Beginning with the time they awoke, they would plan for their future and the baby they would soon welcome. Nothing could ruin this for either of them.

***Except that this is a multi-chapter story and the writer isn't content with letting her favorite Templar be content. So…

…To be continued.


	2. Chapter 2

**Morning Mystery Solved**

Alistair awoke first and pulled himself alongside his sleeping bride. He'd slept with his cheek pressed against her abdomen nearly the whole night since she told him she thought she was pregnant and that had left his neck sore. He rubbed it and stiffly laid his head upon the pillows he'd piled at the headboard over the years. The servant assigned his rooms kept redistributing the pillows across the bed every time she made it but Alistair and Elissa always piled them back up. They were soft against his cheek and Elissa's hair tickled his nose. He folded his arms around her from behind, holding her to him and just content to feel the warmth of her body and smell the spicy scent of her skin.

He was still marveling over her revelation from earlier this morning. She was pregnant. She had to be! If Mattea thought she was, then he had no doubt. Mattea had been running the Theirin household since before Cailan was a glimmer in his mother's eye and she had seen a lot over those many years. She was tough and crusty as stale bread and refused to treat the king and queen any more differently than she treated anyone else. It was for that reason that Alistair loved her. And she had known his family as if she'd been part of it. Mattea was a fountain of information about Maric and Cailan and after her duties were finished, she was always happy to tell him stories about them.

_'Who will you be, Little One? A Gray Warden or the next ruler? Or both? I can't wait to meet you… We haven't even met and I already love you. Isn't that something?'_ He hated getting his hopes up but in the face of so much evidence, he had no doubt that he was right. Elissa, always wise, suggested caution while Alistair just wanted to believe. He'd never wanted anything so badly in his life. He sighed and contentedly nuzzled her neck. This was how they usually awoke. No matter how they fell asleep, Alistair always woke up first so that Elissa could awaken in his arms. This had been their way since long before Alistair became king. It pleased him to know that nothing had changed.

"Mmm… Mornin'…" Elissa muttered softly as she rolled over against him, her arms stretching wide. Her cheek was red and her vivid, red hair was everywhere. Her eyes were gritty with sleep and she had the cutest expression as she smacked her lips. Her husband hugged her close and laid his cheek against her breast. "Good morning, Love. I take it you slept well?" he asked with a smile.

"Mmph. You wore me out. I can't handle that much sex." That got him laughing at the irony of her statement.

"I'll try to be easier on you next time! So, Commander, anything pressing you **have** to do today?"

She thought about it and finally shook her head. Elissa would have to return to Vigil's Keep eventually but the seneschal there did such a remarkable job running things without her that she could afford to remain at court with her husband. "Oddly enough, I'm free!"

He grinned up at her in morning's early light and was almost bouncing with glee. "Well, I have a few** little** things on my agenda but nothing urgent. I have a proposal…"

"…Too late. I beat you to the punch…"

"…**AH-HEM**, My Love! You were **stuck** marrying me regardless, no matter who proposed first. So, anyway, I suggest we…"

"Oh **really**? This is news! So you were planning to propose to me? Marriage? All along?" She loved baiting him.

"… take a… What? Of **course** I was! If we had both survived the Archdemon, had you not told the court you would be my queen during the Landsmeet, I was going to take a more **romantic** course and do the whole **'bended knee'** and **flowers** thing, which you **ruined** in a bid to keep Anora away from me, something I am terribly grateful for. Now, may I finish?"

"Aww. I really wish I'd gotten that. Go ahead and finish while I **fantasize** about you proposing from one knee. Warden Commander or not, I am still a **girl**."

"Mmhm. So I've noticed! **ANYWAY**, I propose we take a day for ourselves after the business with your midwife is done. Just disappear into the Queen's Garden and soak in the spring and relax for the whole day. What do you say?" He raised himself up on one elbow to smile at her as she ran her fingers up his arm.

"Can you **do** that? Dodge the court, I mean?" Elissa asked, eyes wide, her smile teasing him.

"I'm the king. I can do **anything** I want to do. Anything, that is, short of defecting and joining a **dance** troupe."

"Hm! I like the idea. Breakfast first, though. After what you did to me last night, I have a **lot** of energy to recover!" she laughed.

He opened his eyes wide, snorting with laughter. "Me? What** I** did to **you**! Oh ho! What I'm **going** to do to you, you mean."

"And what's that, my King?"

He reached over and proceeded to tickle her until she was screaming with laughter. It is whispered among the servants that the Royal Chambers had never been so lively since before the reign of Alistair and Elissa Theirin. As true companions, they laughed, loved and lived more loudly and more happily than the last two monarchies. It was refreshing and also a bit embarrassing at times. Neither one believed in withholding their cries of pleasure and seemed to enjoy being overheard. And you could always hear them laughing. Mattea had long ago given up trying change them.

At court, they were quiet, calculating and they listened to every word they were told. Those who came to air grievances were given as much consideration as those with Darkspawn problems. But as professional as they were, if one watched closely, body language suggested just how close they really were. There was always a secret smile shared, or a small touch of hands or the closeness of their bodies as they listened. Some things Elissa handled and others Alistair dealt with. Because of Elissa's experience with many of the northern nobles, the King relied heavily on her assessment of them and often deferred to her when necessary. He also deferred to her when it was the Warden Commander they needed. It happened often enough that Alistair would sometimes start by asking whom they needed.

Theirs was a partnership forged from love and the timeless bond of blood and friendship. They had saved one another's lives countless times and never took for granted the time given to them. That's not to say they didn't strive for a "cure" to the poison that made them Gray Wardens but they were content in the reality that they only had a short time together and planned to make the most of it. As a couple, it made them stronger. As the ruling couple, it made them a force to be reckoned with. Though many of the nobles disapproved of the close bond between them, none could fault its success.

They entered the kitchen wearing simple attire for the royal couple. She was in one of Alistair's long, blue shirts, loose and un-tucked, a pair of soft breeches and house-shoes and he was in a white linen shirt, unlaced half-way down his torso and tucked into fine, black pants and soft leather boots. She looked like she'd just awakened with disheveled hair and a sleepy grin. He resembled a classic pirate. Behind her, Mattea heard a serving girl sigh as she ogled him. Well, he was handsome, she would grant him that. "Still don't like dining with the court, I see." Mattea clucked as they entered the palace kitchen.

Alistair held Elissa's hand and waited for her to slide onto the stone bench at the small kitchen table before joining her. "We are dodging the Nobles today, my lady. If we show our faces, I'll have to go to work."

Mattea snorted and took two plates loaded with food from the woman working the massive stove. "Eat up. I'm sure you two have something planned. Elissa, have you considered what I suggested, yet?"

"Yes! We would like to see her. Do you know where in the Alienage she lives?" The old woman looked at Elissa and winking, she said. "No need, Child. I've already sent for her. She'll be here soon. So, anymore nightmares?"

Alistair chewed on a big piece of bacon and nodded. After washing it down with some warm milk, he added, "They're nasty. They seem to be the same ones just more intense. The Landsmeet one is particularly foul. It's me being ass to her. I can't imagine ever being that mean to anyone, let alone the woman I love. Darkspawn maybe… Or Morrigian. It was easy being an ass to her… Fun even!"

Mattea raised an eyebrow at the name. It was familiar because it was often the butt of some of Alistair's most snide comments, though she couldn't remember if she'd even met the woman. She shook her head and voiced her opinion while she cleaned. "I rather suspect it has a lot to with the expectations of that day. What Elissa did was unprecedented. She was likely terrified that you or the court would object to her as your queen, Alistair. As fate would have it, she was well-liked and well-received and it helped that you do love her. But those 'what-ifs' linger and have become a demon themselves. Add that to the jumble of mixed emotions caused by her… Condition… And you have a recipe for sleepless nights. How are the eggs?"

"Cheesy! Mattea, you are amazing." Alistair said in between happy bites. Elissa smiled and leaned her head against his shoulder. "No sauce, Mattea. Thank you. When this is all over, I **want** that sauce again! I **hate** that I can't eat it." Mattea looked up from where she was scrubbing a counter and cast a glance over their shoulders. In the door-way stood a frail elf-woman, stooped over and clinging to a twisted staff of iron bark. She had the withered appearance of great age and wisdom, like a wizened tree still clinging to life after many battles with nature. The odd thing about her was her hair. It was as black as midnight and flowed down her back to drag along in her wake. It seemed to be her only vanity as she was otherwise dressed in rags.

Mattea cleared her throat and nodded. "She's here. Ladies! Let's leave the King and his bride for a bit. Enjoy your day off, Your Majesty. You haven't taken one in a long time. We'll have lunch sent to the Queen's Garden around noon and I'll have the Seneschal manage everything – and every**one**- for the day." They slowly exited the half-cleaned kitchen through another door on the other side of the windowless room.

"Thank you, Mattea. You are simply amazing." Within moments, they were alone with the elf, a Dalish, the king thought as he jumped up from the bench and offered the Midwife his hand. Elissa rose slowly, shyly to stand beside her husband. "Ah, hello, Healer! Can I…?

The ancient elf waved his hand away as she limped slowly to stand before Elissa. Her gnarled hand reached out and she laid white, twisted fingers on the young woman's belly. She closed her eyes and pursed her thick, wrinkled lips. Power flowed through that hand and revealed things that only the elf understood. For Elissa, there was a tingling sensation and a momentary connection to the healer. Whatever she saw, whatever she felt made her smile slightly. It took only a moment and she then broke off contact. She limped carefully to sit on the bench and exhaled slowly while her patient held her own breath. "With child, yes you are. But danger stalks you. Healthy the life within that is made by two Gray Wardens. Troubled pregnancy to cause the girl great discomfort but problem for new life is it not. Nightmares only beginning."

"I can… do my duties? Fighting if I must? Travel to Amaranthine as necessary?" The old woman raised her sightless eyes to meet those of Elissa. Her expression was unreadable. "Life is strong but Darkspawn sense tainted blood. Harm to mother greater than to life. It's up to you, Monarch, to defend your wife. Do what you must. I must go." The old elf started to push herself back to her feet and faltered, sitting back down.

Elissa gazed at her husband as he softly asked, "How far along is she? How long until we meet the baby?"

The old woman turned her head back in Elissa's direction. "Time has meaning only to those who wait." She scoffed. "Very well. Your wait is some six more waxing and wanings."

_'Six months! I'll be a father in six months!'_ Alistair helped her rise and tried to get her to accept aid back to the Alienage but she waved him off with a carless gesture. "Stop fussing, boy. Appearances weaker than my will." He watched helplessly as she brushed past him and barked at a guard who reached for her hand. Within moments she was gone as if she'd never been. "Well, my lady! We have the news we were waiting for. Are you…?" He turned to take Elissa's hand and hold it but when he looked down at her, he realized she was crying. "My love? Are you alright?"

"It's really true… We did it. I have a new life inside me. How amazing is that? Can you** believe** it? **Two** Gray Wardens?" Her eyes wide, tears spilling forth as she drifted toward him. Her hands were clasped over her stomach, holding it in awe.

His voice was a whisper as he pulled her into his arms and rested his cheek against hers. "I **never** doubted. From the moment I saw your belly, I **knew**. So! When do we share the news? I think we should tell the Court soon so that they'll stop throwing girls at me."

"You** like** the attention. Don't pretend you do not," she laughed.

As they linked arms, laughing on their way back down to the wing of the palace where their rooms were, a guard walked up to them. He ignored their underdressed appearance as he snapped off a salute to them both. "Commander, Your Majesty. Greetings. I have been sent to inform you that there is a visitor in the reception hall awaiting the Warden Commander's appearance."

Elissa blinked. "**Me**? But why ever for?"

"He is Orlesian, Commander, and has come a long way to see you. Will you see him?"

To Be Continued…


	3. Chapter 3

**Tainted Dreams **

**Chapter 3**

**Breakfast Bargaining**

_**Author's note: The role of Ambrose will be played by a tall, angry Frenchman with a thick accent and who never smiles. If he did, it is certain his face will break.**_

**Elissa nodded and started down the hall to meet this Gray Warden, her husband close behind. "Have Mattea get him a room and something to eat!" he shouted back to the guard, closing the gap between them. The pair entered the reception hall looking like a pair of disheveled young commoners rather than the two highest-ranking people in all of Ferelden. The Orlesian was a Gray Warden. Both of them knew that instantly. He was tall and thin, reminding Elissa greatly of Riordin, a man she had come to respect in the days leading up to his death. The man had a short beard that thinned along his jaw and thick waves of black hair. The hairline was thin and had a prominent widow's peak. His intense blue eyes were worried and thin lines formed a network of roads across his sun-darkened skin. He stared at the couple hard. "What **is** this?" he shouted at them in richly accented Ferelden. He was, without a doubt, Orlesian. "I have been waiting here for no less than an hour! How **dare** the commander make me **wait**?"**

**Alistair did not like the man's attitude. "Ser, if you would please come with me, I will lead you to a far better place to have a conversation with the Commander. It's my… office." Alistair had set up a small office that was far less opulent than what Cailan had used during his reign. With only a desk and its chair, a pair of side-tables bearing lamps, a scroll-shelf, numerous bookshelves and two more chairs for guests, it was an echo of Alistair's personality. The current king preferred simplicity and efficiency to what his brother had enjoyed. Along the walls were shelves of books interspersed with the various idols and statues Alistair had collected over the years. Maps clung to the walls, many riddled with pins signifying locations and treaties. Several books lay open throughout the small space, including the desk. His one vanity was a richly painted portrait of him and his bride from their wedding day, framed in gold. The painter had captured the joy of that day in his subject's faces and it stood directly behind his chair.**

**If one looked at the desk at the room's center, they would first notice the beauty of fine, elfin craftsmanship but then they would notice a worn spot on the corner closest the door. Alistair moved to perch his bottom on that corner and crossed his arms. "Very well. **Now **what? **Where** is the Commander? I **demand** to see her!" the Orlesian continued to shout imperiously at them. Alistair frowned, a furrow forming between his honey-blond brows. His gold-brown eyes gleamed in the lamp-light.**

"**You **don't** see her?" he muttered darkly.**

"**Of course not! I see a **waif** in a man's shirt and you, whatever you are supposed to be. Where **is **the Commander?" **

**Alistair clenched his fists. He really hated this man and that was saying a lot. "You're **looking** right at her…" he growled.**

"**The **painting**? Nonsense! I want the actual…"**

**Elissa walked over to where Alistair perched in his worn space on the desk and leaned against him, her own arms crossed. He carelessly encircled her shoulders with his arm. "The actual Gray Warden Commander is here, Ser Warden. Or can you not tell what we are?" she said, darkly.**

**The man blinked at her and her husband as if seeing them for the first time. Then his eyes drifted up, over their shoulders and to the wall where the painting was proudly displayed. The pair before him was expertly, if casually mimicking the couple framed upon the wall. The expressions were completely different, however. "I… Oh no, **forgive me**, Commander! I was mistaken. If you are the Commander then he… he must be…" The man fell to his knees and took Alistair's hand. "Forgive me, Your Majesty."**

**Alistair shared a look with his wife and sighed. "I should have said something sooner but I wanted you to learn from the assumption. You see, we're a bit underdressed because we are playing **hooky** today. You need to see my wife. Is this a private meeting or should I stay?"**

"**Apologies, Your Majesty, but I was hoping to talk to your wife in private. It is Gray Warden business, you see. I know that you are one yourself, from what I have been told, but it is only the commander I may talk to." The Orlesian Gray Warden rose to his feet and bowed deeply as Alistair rose from his seat. **

"**I'm being evicted. I'll be close if you need me, my dear." He walked out and closed the door behind him to wait.**

**Elissa claimed her husband's informal place on the desk and waited patiently to hear what the Orlesian wanted from her. She was still angry. The other warden smiled weakly. "I hope my rudeness does not leave a lasting impression, my lady. I had expected something else, you must understand. I heard you were six feet tall, flames spitting from your eyes and that you slept in heavy plate. That you are a small woman with bright eyes and a fondness for your husband's shirts is refreshing. Ahem. Well, My name is Ambrose Fazsile. Our Warden Commander has been asked by our Empress, Celene, to engage in a dialogue with you and, ah, hopefully bring you to Orlais. I-we need your help, Commander." His voice was nervous and Elissa got the impression he may have been lying.**

**Elissa felt the blood drain from her face and she felt suddenly nauseous. Alistair was not going to like this. Not one bit. "Go… to Orlais? With you? I… can't. I am sorry."**

"**You can't? But you must! You have to! I have been ordered to bring you back! I beg of you, please reconsider." He was begging and she felt horrible as she leaned heavily against the desk. It was her duty. It was her job as Warden Commander to help anyone who needed her aid and here she was, forced to being selfish because she was carrying Ferelden's heir. It went against everything she knew about being a Gray Warden and she hated it.**

"**I'm sorry; I never got your name. Mine is Elissa. What is yours?"**

**He blinked at her in surprise. "I… My name is Fazsil."**

**She took a breath and squeezed her eyes shut before slowly, coolly explaining why she could not go. It was, of course, no more than the fact that Alistair would have kittens before he allowed her to go anywhere outside Ferelden with a stranger, even another Gray Warden, but if the man was as duty-bound as other Wardens she'd met, he would need the long explanation. "Ambrose… You must understand that I am not saying 'no' for just any reason. The fact is I have a great deal to consider in this decision. It is more than my duties here, you see. I have **many** duties. I am Warden Commander of Ferelden, I watch over the Arling of Amaranthine, I am Princess Consort, queen and advisor to the court and, soon, to be 'mother' on top of it all. I am carrying the prince or princess of Ferelden and because a pregnancy between **two** Gray Wardens is so impossibly rare, I have a duty to protect myself and my child at all costs. Then too, there are my nightmares, which I have a difficult time of escaping without my husband's help. I… could be a liability. Add to that the fact that Darkspawn are drawn to a Warden's Taint, the doubling of that taint in my womb could be a problem. Do you understand now?" **

**He was more thoughtful** but his eyes held an edge, his face a mask of steely determination. "I know. Nevertheless, your presence has been requested by our-our commander and our Empress and I have been sent forth to bring you to Orlais. I can NOT return without you. You see, my-eh-our situation is dire, my la- Commander. What we face we have never faced before."

She relaxed on the corner of the desk and leaned forward, leaning one arm on her thigh in a mindless imitation of one of her husband's "listening" positions. Who taught who was questionable but they both had worn the corner of the desk from sitting on it constantly and often in the same poses. Observers had been known to comment that the pair were like two halves of a whole, the way they worked together and completed one another's sentences. She wished her other half was here now, to show his support. "What do you mean?"

"I was told not to say too much. And much I do not know but I will tell you this; Orlais faces what could be a possible blight if the situation is allowed to continue." He turned away from her, his black armor glinting in the lamp-light from the two tables and the desk. Torches burned on either side of the door. "This **'Blight'** is like no other because it is not led by an Archdemon, per se. It is led by a rogue Templar and a woman who calls demons. But we understand that one of her demons has escaped and now the Darkspawn follow the demon. She controls also the Templar and the mage and uses them to build her own army. She will crush us if you do not help. Now…" He turned back around, very slowly. "…do **you** understand?"

Elissa leaned back and had to grip the corner of the desk with both hands to steady herself. "Dear Andraste…! This is serious! But what can** I** do? I have no army of Gray Wardens, Ambrose! We are still only just beginning to rebuild our numbers. Why cannot the Orlesian Grey Wardens handle this? They outnumber our own a hundred to one!"

"I… Cannot explain in terms you would accept. I ask only that you trust me. I need your help, Commander. I must have your help," his voice was a whisper, his need palpable and her heart went out to him.

"I will not usurp the position of your **own** commander." She frowned and rose from the desk, her hands shaking and her head lightly spinning. She felt suddenly weak and gripped the desk for support.

Ambrose reached out to her as her face blanched but she waved him off. After a moment, he said "Are you alright?" She looked unsteady but she nodded weakly. Slowly, carefully, Elissa walked to the door and opened it.

"Go, Ambrose. I have to speak with my husband. I can make you no promises unless I discuss it with him first. I doubt he will like what you are asking but… He's Gray Warden enough to appreciate what your people are dealing with. We will see." In a quivering voice, she called for a nearby guard to show their guest around the palace and to his rooms. Then she spotted Alistair leaning against a wall close by. She beckoned to him to enter the office.

He looked at her face, hard. He was worried. She was pale and shaking slightly. "Elissa? You look ill. Do you need a trash-pail?"

She nodded several times. Alistair had it on the desk in an instant and held her shoulders as she eliminated her breakfast in the worst possible way. It was painful and bitter, she wept softly as she heaved. Her husband held her through it all and his gentle understanding was more than she could have ever wished. She was so proud to be his wife and grateful for the wonderful man he was, even when she was at her worst. It made what she had to say even more painful. When she was done, he brought water to her lips and wiped away her tears with his thumbs. She was shivering. Quietly, he took the pail and set it outside the office door. Sooner or later, someone would dispose of it. For now, it was at least out of sight. "My love?"

"Lock the door and…"

"If you tell me to sit down, I'm going to be even more worried than I already am," he muttered as he turned the lock.

"…sit down. I have something to tell you that you won't like."

He frowned as he took up his customary perch. "I already don't like it. If Morrigan is involved, the answer is 'NO'."

She ignored his attempt at levity and faced away from him, holding her arms tightly against her body as if trying to ward off a chill. "Do you remember that conversation we had about a month before the Landsmeet when I asked you where you thought we were going to take our relationship? I wasn't sure what I wanted then but I knew I loved you more than I'd thought possible. But you were wiser than I was. You reminded me that duty and honor come first and that what we want must always come second or we lose sight of why we are what we are. I was stung by that and it was our first disagreement as your lover. But I never forgot the lesson." She paced the room, looking very uncomfortable as she searched for the words she needed to make her case.

She looked at him, pierced him through the heart with her blue-green eyes as bright as the clearest deep water. He flinched. "I have to go to Orlais. They need my knowledge, my skills. I know the timing on this is bad but…"

Alistair was on his feet a second later, standing before her and seething. "The answer is **'NO'**. You can **NOT** go to Orlais. It pains me to order you **not** to do your duties and had it been a month ago, even a week ago or, Maker forgive me, a **DAY** ago, I'd have been more relenting but knowing what I know I… I… just can't let you. I'm sorry. I must **forbid** this. Did you not **tell** him that you would not be able to go? Or did you consider it from the start?"

Elissa's cheeks flushed with anger as she stood before him. "I tried to **explain** it to him but then he told me why he needs me! And he was **right**! I am the best person for the job. They cannot do this alone and I, for one, will not allow them to suffer after **all** the aid they have given us over the years."

Elissa carefully explained to Alistair everything that Ambrose had told her. Her husband shook her head defiantly. "My answer stands. I will not allow you to endanger my kingdom's heir by letting you run into a nest of darkspawn. Besides, what if you have one of those awful nightmares? Will **HE** hold you and stroke your hair while you slam your fists into his chest, screaming? **No**! I won't **let** him! And I won't let our child be born outside of Ferelden either. Have you any idea how far away Val Royeaux is? It would take us about a month to six weeks or **longer**, one way. My answer is **final**. I am **finished** with this."

She gasped as if struck by a physical blow, so close to her nightmare were those final words. The tone of his voice, his stance, the way his eyes blazed hotly, they only enhanced the resemblance to her dream. It was all she could do to keep her head level. He didn't notice the pain he'd caused as he turned away from her in his fury. "Alistair… Please, don't…" she whispered through her tears.

He stalked angrily toward the door and unlocked it, angry with himself for being angry and furious with her for even considering this madness. He hated himself for hurting her. Then she said the fatal words; "**Wait**! There's an alternative to this so that you won't be leaving this room angry."

He turned, brows drawn darkly. "An alternative to **leaving** is **staying** so unless that's your alternative, I'm **going**!"

"Alistair, sit down at your desk. Not on it. Sit in the chair." She breathed shakily. It was all she could do not to sob. Maintaining control was paramount at this point. He growled something obscene but did as she asked out of sheer curiosity. He still had his foot down but if she was wise, she might help them heal from this fight. He watched as she reached into a drawer and pulled out a stack of bound parchment. "Is this your correspondence with Orlais?"

He nodded and took the stack from her, his thumbs brushing the letters. "Messages sent between couriers. Why do you ask?"

"But you have never met Celene, yes?"

He shook his head thoughtfully, his anger fading with each passing moment. "We can never match schedules. We've been trying for three years but…"

Elissa fell to her knees, her elbows on his thighs and her hands, shaking, clung tightly to his. She no longer thought she could stand. Tears oozed their way down her cheeks and her teal eyes were brightly swimming. "Do it now, then. Come with me to Orlais and be my guardian. Be my knight. Be my king. Hold me at night, love me at dawn and hold my hands when I'm sick and hold on to my body when my nightmares get the better of me. Well?"

He was stunned as he looked down at her. Her expression was so sincere that he almost choked with emotion. "Elissa, I… I **can't** leave Ferelden. Who will watch over her while we're gone? The Bannorn will want me hung if I leave. Half still think the Orlesians are evil anyway."

"There's Fergus… He's already on his way here with his family. As the Teyrn of Highever, he is the most powerful man in the land besides yourself. The Bannorn respect him and they listen when he speaks. He is very much like my father, you know."

Alistair tilted his head back and he stared up at the ceiling with a groan. "My love… He's coming for a vacation, not official business. It's a social call to see family!"

"But he's just a few days out. The alternative is Arl Eamon and his health is not so great these days. Or Bann Teagan but Teagan has been helping Eamon more and more lately. So… Fergus would be your best choice. Maybe your only choice."

'_Damn. She's making sense, which means she's winning.' _He'd run out of arguments and any others he posed would look fake if he tried them. He finally reached down, helped his queen into his lap and pulled her legs across the arm of the chair. He sat there, stroking her face, her hair and her lips with his finger tips. He then gazed deeply into the bottomless depths of her eyes and sighed. He could never stay angry at her for long. "I guess you have no choice, then. Either I go with you or you don't go at all. It's not much of a choice, my love, but I'm not completely against a visit to Orlais. And it sure beats being mad at you. I really hate being mad. Will you forgive that ridiculous outburst?"

She took his hand and laid it upon her belly, which her raised shirt framed nicely. She smiled lovingly into his eyes. "You have a lot to protect, Dear husband. I understand completely. Believe me, I do not wish to go at all but… **Damn** my sense of duty. I can thank **you** for that!"

His hand slowly drifted up her shirt to fondle a plump breast. He smiled as he gazed into her eyes. His other hand caressed her face. "You are perfect for me, my love. Your sense of duty, your sense of self, your wisdom… These are all great things that make you who you are and who I need in my life. If I could do it again, the only thing I would have changed was deciding against seeking you out when I was a boy. But then again… Maybe meeting you later like I did was best. We had the freedom to choose one another, you know? Still, I'd marry you all over again."

She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. Then, she raised her legs and straddled his groin, their noses touching and a smile on her lips. She pulled her blue shirt up over her head and whipped it somewhere. She didn't see where it landed, only that her husband had taken notice of its disappearance. He lifted her from his lap and sat her upon the desk. Slowly, he pulled her pants down until all she wore were her shoes, which she playfully kicked off. Elissa arched her back as she leaned back on her hands and smiled. He had his pants down his narrow hips in moments and his shirt flung in another direction. They heard a thud as something was knocked over and together, they laughed.

Giggling, Alistair slowly, seductively pressed his hard phallus deep inside her. She arched her throat, closed her eyes and gasped. "In four years of marriage, why have we never made love on your desk…?" He drove deep inside her, pulling her tightly against him, her knees locked around his hips. She moaned and teased herself as he worked. They knocked over a metal statue and several stacked books scattered when they hit the floor. They climaxed quickly, coming as one as they often did and Elissa raised herself up, her arms around Alistair's sweat-drenched neck and her lips tasting the salt-sweet of his skin. He was quivering from the intensity of the orgasm but was still inside her and he was still hard. "Again," he panted. "I want you again…" She pulled him down on top of her, shoving ink vials and pens to join the books on the floor and happily obliging his desire.

When they finished the second time, they curled up together in his chair, kissing and touching one another lightly. "Mmm. We should **argue** more often. That was… **Incredible**! I'm still aroused but alas, I think I may need some of **Zevran's roots** if I were to attempt it again," he chuckled, his fingers tracing her face, the curve of her neck and her firm breasts.

She laughed and stretched her body out across him dramatically. "Oh, damn your beautiful body, which the torchlight spins into golden armor as fine as anything any king has ever worn. I am a moth to your beautiful flame."

"Kiss-ass," he chided playfully. He took that opportunity to tickle her and admitted that for once, it was he who had continued the playful escapade on the desk. "Okay, **up**, Woman! We have to find our clothes. I think I unlocked the door earlier and if your **'friend'** returns prematurely, we'll have some explaining to do. I doubt, 'We were fighting and the argument grew so heated we stripped off all our clothes' will be an acceptable excuse. Hmm… How did your shirt get **up there**? I can't reach that… Not even with the ladder," he murmured, looking at the top of the tallest shelf, where her shirt was draped.

As she pulled up her pants, she followed Alistair's gaze and started laughing. "Well, my love, it seems we'll have to add 'flying' to the list of my seemingly endless rumored abilities!"

**To Be Continued…**


	4. Chapter 4

**King Cousland**

**Part1**

Alistair chewed thoughtfully on the end of his pen as he studied the document before him. It was mostly finished and he was pleased with the way it was coming. Basically a laundry list of information Fergus would need to handle the nobles, it would guide Elissa's brother on situations being handled, that had been handled or had yet to be handled. It also identified certain nobles as "hostile to, neutral, or in support of" the current crown. Alistair and his wife had made great strides in making allies with a leadership that was strong, yet flexible. The nobles, even the "hostile" ones, were grudgingly in favor of the royal couple.

He leaned forward, dipped the nib into his little clay inkwell and added a few more bits of information to the parchment. It was in this position Elissa found him when she entered the room, bearing lunch and a smile for her hard-working King. "Are you planning to work all day or will you take a break for a bite or a bit?"

He flashed her a kind smile and raised his eyes to meet hers though he stayed hunched over the paper. "As long as the biting involves a certain lady, I'm game. Just give me a second here…" He looked back down and continued to write. He must have taken too long because, when he reached out to refill the nib, the pot was gone. He looked for it and found it completely missing. "What the…" He looked up and smiled. Elissa was seated on the corner of the desk next to him, holding the little clay pot with an innocent smirk. "Looking for this, my love?"

"Actually, I was!" He aimed the nib for the pot but his wife was faster. He stabbed air uselessly and grinned at her game. "I can't finish this if you don't let me dip the pen, Love." She dangled it near his face, leaning in close to him. He made another futile attempt but succeeded only in kissing his wife instead. The pen fell from his fingers and clattered uselessly on the floor at his feet. "Ah. Point taken," he murmured with an enlightened smile.

She nudged the plate closer to him and snatched the document to begin reading. He sat back in his chair and munched on his sandwiches as he waited for her opinion. She lifted her brows now and again as she read. She was impressed with Alistair's information, and his neat, scholarly penmanship. He was descriptive and had a command of the written word that Elissa had known was there but had never seen in its full glory. He also had information that astounded her. There was a lot here that not even she was aware of. "Lord Festwick was unhappy with that solution? I thought our compromise would be sufficient! He didn't complain, anyway."

Alistair snorted and swallowed just enough to speak. He hadn't realized how hungry he was. "That was the problem. It was a compromise and not in Festwick's favor. He writes me weekly, seeking a less equitable solution. I wonder if he's aware that I allow Rascal to read them now."

Elissa laughed and patted her husband's cheek fondly. "I'm sure the dog appreciates that you are finally acknowledging his intelligence."

Alistair mocked-bowed several times, one of his sandwiches held in his hand. "'Oh, wise Mbari! I elevate you to official secretary of idiotic letters!'"

She broke out in a fit of giggles at the faces Alistair made. "I guess it's better than publicly burning them," she laughed.

"I wish I'd had a dog in the Temple. Then I would have had an excuse why my book-work was missing, something like, 'The dog ate it!' You never told me how useful they can be." Elissa was almost on the floor she was laughing so hard. A servant came by the office and discretely closed the open door when she heard the laughter pouring out. The royal couple was prone to "forgetting" to close doors sometimes when they decided to be romantic. This was not one such moment and that only caused another eruption of laughter, from both of them.

When the laughter and snorting ended, Elissa sat back up on the desk and gazed down at her bright-eyed husband who was leaning his cheek in one hand and beaming up at her. "You like this, don't you? Making all this preparation for our journey and nobody has a clue what we're up to, not even the Orlesian," she smirked down at him.

Alistair nodded, his eyes still on her face, his lips turned up in a broad grin. "This is fun. I hate to admit it but I missed the road. If I hadn't become king, I'd have taken my wife with me and become a mercenary or lived out the great Gray Warden existence, leaving a trail of dead Darkspawn in our wake. As long as it was with you, I guess **where** wouldn't matter."

That earned him a quick kiss. "Flatterer. Well, Fergus is due within the hour. A scout stated she spotted Highever's crest not far from the city. Mattea has a huge banquet planned and half the Bannorn is here, along with most of the Arlings' lords and ladies. It's practically a landsmeet! Is this also your doing?" Alistair's innocent roll of his eyes without ever losing his huge grin answered her perfectly. She widened her eyes and opened her mouth to say something before snapping it shut. Elissa narrowed her blue-green eyes into slits. "You naughty boy, you! You're going to announce everything at once! Baby, Orlais and Fergus! All at the same time during the banquet!"

He looked over his shoulder with a low whistle but didn't stop smiling, not even when Elissa tapped his arm. "What else have you got in that scheming head of yours? Hmm?"

He rolled his head to smile languidly at her. "You do not want to know. Trust me. I'm going to either piss a lot of people off or end the silly feuding in the Bannorn, at least while we're gone." She leaned over him and kissed him deeply, passionately with her entire mouth. He reached up and hauled her, squealing, into his lap. "No nightmare last night or the night before. How do you feel?"

She shrugged. "I was sick a little while before lunch and I had a case of stomach cramps a little while ago but nothing severe. I've spoken to the Orlesian a bit but he's very withdrawn and quiet. He is unhappy about the delay and he doesn't like you very much, I think. I can't understand why. I think you are adorable, personally. Anyway, he thinks you're trying to control me. Like I don't have a mind of my own! He thinks that I can handle my pregnancy just fine without you hovering over me like a worried papa. I certainly can but… the nightmares and the potential for the Darkspawn to be drawn to me puts me on edge. You understand the situation and I rather like knowing that whatever comes, we'll be ready for it."

He snuggled her close, his nose against her neck and her lips grazing her skin. His arms were around her, stroking her back gently. They rocked gently against one another, just hugging and occasionally sharing a sweet kiss. It was these tender, loving periods of time they spent that eclipsed the passion and reminded Alistair why he was married and not just someone's lover. This bliss worth everything in the world to him. When she was by his side, in his arms, or simply within sight, he believed there was nothing in the world he could not do. Muse, friend, advisor, queen and lover… She was everything to him. "Tonight, at the banquet, I want you to wear something formal, something… amazing." he mumbled into red hair.

"I was planning on wearing my Gray Warden Commander armor," she murmured softly as he kissed her neck. He shook his head and pushed her away slightly so that he could gaze into her sea-green eyes. His voice was firm. "No. I want you to give off a very strong 'royalty' vibe. I want you to look and act every bit like the 'Queen of Ferelden' so that there is no doubt who you are. Some still simply view you as just my wife, or sometimes they say, 'the King's wife' or they dismiss the 'wife part' and think of you only as the 'Gray Warden' or just as the 'commander'. I am sure that others are less complimentary and view you as my temporary bed warmer. Tonight, the Commander will go into hiding, understand? I want my regal Queen to be there."

She chewed her lip thoughtfully and slid her arms up under his so that she could rest her head against his broad chest. "I'll need a suitable dress…"

He nodded. "If you can, maybe get Mattea to find you something that accentuates the pregnancy. You're showing just enough to start rumors. I want you to emphasize it so that those rumors are confirmed."

"And what will you wear, my love?" she murmured into his shirt.

She knew his answer before he said it but smacked him anyway. "Clothes. Ow! All right, all right! I found King Maric's armor in the vault. Maric was a big man apparently and it's a bit loose but I'm content that I can make it fit. It's really very nice, formal armor with a royal crown and everything. Which reminds me… I have a gift for you. But you won't get it until tonight so you will just have to suffer." He tweaked her nose and turned her toward the door. "I have work to do and you are a lovely distraction. Now, be gone, woman!" She laughed and threw her arms around his neck then smothered his face with sweet kisses. "Yeah, yeah, I love you too," he sighed happily.

She danced out the door, singing as she left him with his papers, his books and a smile that hadn't been present until she arrived with lunch and love.

* * *

Fergus' arrival was a moment for celebration and forgetting decorum. Elissa, dressed in a long, elegant gown of soft velvet and silk, no longer resembled the feisty fighter her brother recalled. He laughed and swung her around in a wide arc. "Hah hah hah! Elissa! Look at you! You've gone soft!"

"Have I, brother dear? You'd best watch your back in the practice circle, then. I'm every bit as deadly as I ever was. I just don't wear armor all the time. Well, not all the time. Care to make a bet, Fergus?" He pinched her cheek and then kissed it. "Not on your life. Your husband may like taking chances but I know when not to! Speaking of the king, where is he?"

Elissa handed Fergus' bags off to a handful of servants who waited patiently for them. One gave her a chagrined look and waved her off. "Alistair is in his office. I'll take you there. Hello, Olivine. It's good to see you again." The young woman eyed Elissa warily. Since the day they first met, their relationship had been icy at best. Olivine greatly disapproved of Elissa as a Gray Warden and as a warrior in general. The Commander sighed and bumped her brother's hip. "She still hate me?" Elissa muttered as she escorted her brother from the entrance. Olivine walked further back, paying attention to the small child running along at her feet.

Fergus smiled down at her and scratched his bewhiskered chin. "No, she doesn't hate you. She just doesn't like you. It's the usual reasons, of course. But there may also be some jealousy there too. You have a charmed life, you know. Queen of Ferelden notwithstanding, you're an accomplished warrior and hero as well. You've been many places, seen many things and you brought down the Archdemon. That makes you pretty special. And someone to envy. My wife has never been any further from home that Denerim and she is simply a wife."

Elissa cringed. She liked being a wife but her numerous other roles were greatly rewarding and each gave another dimension to her complex and exciting life. And being a wife to her fellow Gray Warden and the king to boot had its advantages. "Has she no other aspirations?" she asked softly.

Fergus shrugged. "None she's expressed to me. I would support her in anything she did want to do, though. I rather wish she did have other aspirations." Elissa sighed sadly and opened the door. Alistair was standing on a chair he'd leaned against one of his many book shelves. He was reaching for a dusty tome when they walked in. He smiled down at them and tossed the book to Elissa. She caught it with one hand. "A Practical Study of Orlesian Government, Geography and Social Customs" was printed on the front cover and spine. The book looked to be fairly old. When Elissa flipped through it, she noted hand-written notes in the margins by Cailan Theirin. They were little things like important updates and reminders. It was fascinating.

"My homework, I presume?" she said with a wry smile at her husband, who by now had replaced the chair and was seated in his favorite spot on the desk. "Yup! You have two days to finish it. Though if you kiss me, I might let you take it with you. I'm gullible that way. Hello, Fergus. Be welcome!" Elissa drew herself up to kiss Alistair on the cheek but "missed" and kissed his lips instead. Alistair was still shy about kissing in public and blushed considerably when the kiss went longer than expected.

She winked at Fergus and took her little nephew's hand to the dismay of his mother. "I'll leave you boys alone for a bit and escort my sister-in-law and her son to their rooms. Then I'll get ready for dinner. Come to our rooms, my love, so that you can give me this mystery gift I'm itching to see." After a final kiss on his flushed mouth, she stepped out and Alistair grinned like a love-struck idiot as he watched her leave.

"I see you two haven't lost it," Fergus observed, throwing himself into one of the plush guest chairs facing the desk. Alistair blinked down at him.

"Say again?" he asked.

"You know. The romance, the spark that drew you two together. It's still there. When I look at you both, you exude something almost palpable. It's refreshing."

Alistair blushed again and smiled fondly. "She's a bright spot, that's for sure. And a remarkable person as well. I like that we can spar in the practice ring or verbally joust over ideas. I wouldn't be here without her."

"None of us would…" Fergus said gravely.

"So very true. The fondest memory of my life is the day we married. Anyway, I hope the person you have babysitting Highever isn't being overpaid while you're gone. I have a task for you, if you're up to it."

Fergus sat back in his chair, eyeing the king apprehensively. "A task? For me? I take it this is not a thing I can easily go home and do?"

Alistair chuckled and looked above Fergus' shoulder at a painting near the door. It was of Cailan and Anora. Alistair had wanted to remove the portrait but he liked having the paintings of past and present face one another even IF he had to look at Anora. She was the only person he thought he liked less than Morrigan and the Orlesian was coming close even to that. "No, friend. It will require you to stay for a bit longer than you planned. I'll announce it at dinner. No worries. I just didn't want you left completely in darkness, you know? Come on. I'll show you your rooms. We have to get dressed for the big event."

"I thought this wasn't a Landsmeet?" Fergus asked as they walked to the door. Alistair grinned wickedly. "Nope. It's just dinner with a few, ah, surprises. A lot of surprises and a few unwelcome to some, I'm sure. I can't wait."

As they walked up the hall to the royal wing, Fergus could be heard laughing. "Elissa said you're a demon at times! I can't wait to see just what she meant."

"Umm… Whatever she was talking about… Ahhh… Right. Demon. I don't think you know where her mind was when she said that and I am not entirely sure I want to guess myself," Alistair replied, sounding nervous.

To Be Continued


	5. Chapter 5

**King Cousland**

**Part 2: **_(Dress? What Dress?)_

Later, in their expansive royal suite (where they spent less time than anywhere else, ironically) Alistair sat in the formal armor of his father, the late King Maric Theirin. It was an amazing piece of Orlesian artistry designed for formal occasions. Light and flexible, it was also easy to sit in. It was silvery, highly polished steel over laid with areas of dark Silverite, red steel and inlaid gold. Ferelden blue trim popped out from the edges of overlaying pieces and filigreed gold was etched into the plates where the dark silverite afforded the most contrast. He seemed to glow every time he moved. Perched awkwardly atop his blond head was a massive crown, jewel studded and highly uncomfortable. He hated it. Alistair had never been one for wearing a crown, any crown, and chose actions to represent his regal authority for him instead.

He was waiting for his wife now and he felt nervous. He was more nervous now than any other time in recent memory but he hadn't a clue why. His leg was starting to shake, the metal of his boot clacking annoyingly on the marble floor. He tried to stop it but his nerves only made things worse_. 'Stop it! Alistair, there is no reason to be nervous. None! Your wife has dressed up before, remember? That first time you met her she wore that amazing gold gown and you were nervous but for different reasons. And remember your wedding day. Ah, but she was amazing in that gown of gold, white and lavender lace and the way she smiled with those eyes…! The coronation dance, she wowed them all when they all realized how amazing she could look with her armor off. We showed them, yes we did! So! No reason to be nervous, right?'_The pep-talk failed. He stared wide-eyed at the door and waited, his boot-heel tapping repeatedly against the floor.

Unexpectedly, the door to the bedroom opened and Mattea stepped out, grinning. A moment later, Elissa Theirin, Queen, Champion and Gray Warden Commander of Ferelden, stepped out into the sitting room wearing a smile and a dress that made Alistair grateful he had chosen not to stand. If he had, his knees would have failed and his body would have submitted itself to gravity. He felt his jaw come unhinged and all but hit the floor and he suddenly forgot how to breathe or blink or think. Once again, his wife had redefined what beauty meant to him.

Before him stood Elissa in the most beautiful gown he'd ever seen. He could tell it was of Orlesian make by the daring cut and colors. They always seem to push the envelope when it comes to extremes in fashion. The bodice was shimmering bright teal, one-shoulder strap with the strapless side cut dangerously along the curve of her breast, leaving a gratuitous mound of soft flesh exposed, almost showing her nipple. Inwardly, he drooled, outwardly he cringed. It was skin-tight, leaving little to the imagination and Elissa was almost always very perky; the satiny material made it painfully obvious how perfect her breasts were. He swallowed hard. The good thing about the shiny, tight fabric was that it made her appear very pregnant, more so even than when she was naked. That was perfect. It was exactly what he'd wanted. The waist plunged into a "star" pattern that cascaded low on her hips. It was trimmed in bright gold fabric and the pattern was repeated at her shoulder.

From her hips flared what looked like hundreds of colored, silken streamers, both gossamer and opaque. They were in shades of pink, teal and violet with gold and yellow for contrast. They drifted gracefully each time she moved. It was as if she was dipped in a storm of color and the effect was fascinating to observe. He couldn't wait to see her dance. From her shoulder was another sheer streamer in sheer teal, which faded into deep purple at the hem that was as long as she was tall and flowed gracefully behind her. Even though it seemed like his mind was functional, he still felt it was impossible to move or speak or do anything but stare.

Mattea walked up to him and smirked. "What do you think, Your Majesty? Alistair? Oh dear… He's catatonic." She glanced over her shoulder at Elissa, whose eyes were dancing with humor within the dusky hues of violet and black kohl that lined her eyes. She was giggling at him. "Well, if he's catatonic now, he's going to pass out when he sees the back. Smelling salts are in the bath. I'm off to check on my kitchen. I have little doubt they have everything under control but still… I do take these things personally. See you later!"

Elissa drifted closer as Alistair shook himself free of the paralyzing beauty of his wife. "Back? What's wrong with the back?" he sputtered nervously. The smile she gave him was dripping with wicked humor. Then she turned around with a swirl of gossamer color like a corporeal rainbow, and he knew why Mattea suggested he might collapse at the sight. The back plunged down, further down than any other man had ever viewed her outside of the small party they had traveled with 5 years ago. Her back was completely exposed all the way to the lower curve where it formed the crest of her perfect bottom. He could even see the cute dimples just above the pale swell of flesh. As physically fit as she was, her toned and beautifully sculpted back looked incredibly sexy in the low-plunging dress. He loved her back and wanted nothing more than to run his lips over its soft surface. He swallowed hard. "Are… Are you… Ah… Wh-where's the **rest **of it?"

She danced around again and kissed his cheek playfully. "That's it! Do you like it?"

"It's stunning but I'm getting you a full entourage of guards, note: **female guards** complete with tower shields to protect you from view…" he stammered, his voice high-pitched and nervous.

Elissa laughed, cupped his square, whiskered chin in her fingers and rubbed her nose to his. "Would that not defeat the purpose of the dress, my love? What happened to 'sending a strong royalty vibe' and being 'every bit the Queen of Ferelden'? Didn't you want me to dress in something amazing? Something that would draw the attention of everyone?"

He stared at the dangerous mound of pale breast showing and he blushed a deep red. "I'm tempted to rescind that! Is your armor handy? Maybe I can order you to put something more substantial on lest I feel inclined to bare my teeth at anyone who so much as peeks in your direction?" The expression on her lovely face was of serene patience tinged with an air of, '_not on your life!_' He sighed. "Guess not?" She shook her head. He sighed again and rose to his feet stiffly. Well, part of him was stiff, anyway. His legs were jelly. He was not going to enjoy this. Carefully, Alistair walked over to a beautifully carved wooden cabinet and lifted a box from its polished, red surface. He turned and held it out to his beautiful wife. "Here. This is the gift I was teasing you about earlier. I think you'll like it."

Her eyes widened and a thrill coursed through her veins. She reached out with bejeweled fingers and removed the wooden lid. Oh, how she loved his random gifts! He was quite good at that. They ranged from being very expensive (jewelry), to very thoughtful (flowers, books, armor), to the unexpected (a visit to a quiet mountain retreat for a week.) Her favorites were the ones that seemed to sparkle least, those gifts that were born of his heart and not his coin. He never ceased to surprise her. This time was no exception. When the lid was pulled back, something gold and encrusted in diamonds made her inhale sharply with shock. Okay, this was a gift born of his coin, obviously, and a lot of it. The box-lid slipped from her fingers as she reached her hands down into the box and lifted her gift so that she could look at it. She held it up, turning it in her hands as light reflected from the lanterns and torches danced upon her face. Alistair was smug, smiling like he'd won a game.

"Alistair… Please tell me these gems are crystals…" He beamed. _'__**GOT**__ her! She's stunned! HAH! I can still make her loose her ability to speak!'_ he crowed inside his head. "Diamonds. Lots of diamonds, love. Do you like it?" She turned the tiara around in her hands silently. If she had spoken, she would have cried and Mattea would have to redo her eyes so she resorted to wordless communication instead. She nodded slowly, her blue-green eyes very wide.

He gently pried it out of her fingers and placed it carefully atop her elegant coif of scarlet waves. Mattea had added little crystal-encrusted butterfly pins to her hair and they were everywhere. The tiara sat perfectly amid the fluttering, glittering wings as if they had been waiting for it. Knowing Mattea that assumption would not have been too far off the mark. The tiara itself was like a diamond-encrusted plant given the shape of a lady's tiara complete with tiny emerald "leaves" and "flowers" in other gems like topaz, citrine, amethyst and ruby. Stones even dangled pleasantly from the diamond "vines" that looped and swirled in intricate patterns. There wasn't much color but what there was went well with the dress and suited Elissa's face wonderfully.

After making certain it was square and set in place, Alistair took her into his strong arms and held her. In a low, soft voice he said, "On our wedding day, I bestowed a crown to you that others had worn in the past as part of the ceremony but it never suited you. I don't know why but I always envisioned something more delicate yet no less regal. So I contacted a jeweler for advice and after he met you, he agreed with me. I gave him as much gold and time as he needed to make something I hoped would sweep you off your feet. Tell me… Did I succeed?"

"I… met him? When?" she asked, peering up at him with curious eyes. He loved how their color matched her bodice and the daring black kohl and purple powder made them stand out. He traced his finger along the curve of her cheek, down her neck and across her bare shoulder. Maker, it was tempting to just keep going. "I slipped him into one of our meetings months ago," he said, trying not to look lower than her face. "You didn't answer my question…"

She nodded weakly. "I'm amazed. You truly know how to make a girl giddy with pleasure, you know that? I can't imagine what it cost."

He leaned in to taste her neck. "I paid for it with a portion of the sovereigns I earned while we were adventuring together. I never spent much of my share after we divvied up so rather than this being a gift from the throne, it's really just a gift from that handsome man you were kissing along the way. Remember him? That shy Templar you seduced with your beautiful smile and luscious kiss?" His voice took on a soft, husky purr as he added, "The man who **still** loves pleasing you **whenever** possible?" Alistair's smile took on a sensual, flirty look and his eyes drank her in. Her body was responding to his touch in spite of the armor he wore and he hadn't donned his gauntlets. Well, why not give her something to think about during dinner?

His finger moved down her shoulder and along the swell of her exposed breast, lingering briefly to massage the erect nipple. He heard her gasp, watched her eyes close. He continued that naughty hand down the curve of her hip and gathered the breezy skirts so that he could push his hand through them and let his fingers explore her secret places. He found the magic spot on her body he was looking for and began to stroke it. Eventually, he slipped them inside her and she pressed against him. Her arms curled around his neck as he leaned in to kiss her mouth. Sensuously, he worked those nimble fingers with wicked delight from inside and outside her aroused body. Her head tilted back as she moaned with pleasure.

A few moments later she was groaning and clinging to him tightly. This was another area he was gifted in. Merely touching her could bring her to intense heights of pleasure as he was doing now. She responded so quickly she hardly had time to prepare but he had his arm around her, supporting her so that she could fully enjoy his gleeful teasing. When they were alone, the man was as far from that shy Templar as he could get and he seemed to revel in bringing her to ecstasy. She peaked with a final passionate cry and found it impossible to stand without his help. It was over but her body still quivered from his pleasure-gift. Then, as if on cue, there was a knock at the door. "Enter!" Alistair called, much too soon for Elissa's sake. She blanched as she looked up at him, still clinging to his neck. There was a fine sheen of sweat on his skin but his expression was smug. He slowly removed his hand from under her dress, looked at it and grunted with satisfaction. "Well… That was fun," he commented with a raised eyebrow.

He smiled at the guard as he entered. "Your Majesties, I was ordered to escort you to the banquet. Will you come?" The guard stared at Elissa without realizing it, clearly appraising her appearance. Alistair nodded then slid his wet fingers into his mouth one at a time, licking them each clean in front of the guard and his queen as they linked arms. Elissa looked, wide-eyed, at her husband's expression and saw a playful rogue instead of the bashful young man she was accustomed to. Knowing what he'd licked off his fingers in front of the guard with that satisfied smirk on his face gave her a new appreciation for the man. "Shall we, my love?" he said smoothly.

"Hmm. Yes, we shall. I can't wait to see what other surprises you have, wicked man," she murmured, laying her free hand over his arm.

His smile was delicious as he guided her to dinner. "I guess I am a bit of a demon, aren't I?" he chuckled.

To Be Continued…


	6. Chapter 6

**King Cousland**

**(Part 3) **_(Dinner is Served)_

Alistair Theirin could be extremely charming when he wished to be and extremely temperamental when he wanted to be. Since the arrival of Ambrose Fazsil, the Orlesian Gray Warden, Alistair had bounced between being charming and temperamental with the grace of a nug attempting to swing an axe and Elissa was wary of it. Ambrose had made several irritating comments to the King that was disrespectful without outwardly showing disrespect. At one point she snapped at both of them to mind their manners before turning her back on both of them and jumping up to dance. That act left them both sputtering.

Oddly enough, dinner was an amazing success. Meats and poultry of all kinds had been loaded onto each long table. Vegetables from all across the lands and breads for all tastes were piled alongside bowls of sweet butter. The nobles also had a fair variety of wines and spirits to choose from. Mattea had thought of every palate and had even imported fish from Redcliffe and venison from the forests south. Potatoes of every kind and cooked in every way dotted the tables and even elaborate pastas sat beside sweet shell-fish and breaded cheeses. There was laughter even in light of the fact that enemies were seated side-by-side and far away from friends. Alistair noted with growing pleasure that everyone seemed to be getting along, though against their will for some.

Since becoming king, there had been landsmeets and gatherings, celebrations and of course, the yearly tourney. Alistair enjoyed these events immensely and continued their tradition. Watching his people enjoy themselves made him very happy. There was even a faire now, the sort that travels from city to city bringing all sorts of goods and entertainment. Elves and humans alike ran it side by side with surface dwarves and a small menagerie of creatures. Ferelden's king and queen helped fund it and thus far, it was among the most successful of Alistair's ideas. He was becoming a popular king.

After a playfully executed Remigold with her husband, (the man was as fine a dancer as ever and exceptionally handsome in his full ceremonial armor), they went back to their table to sit and eat dessert. There were pies and cakes and crisp and tender cookies of all kinds. Mattea had arranged for every taste, just as she had done with dinner. She was an expert at these things, something Elissa was thankful for.

Alistair rose to his feet shortly after finishing the pie he'd been eating. The king and queen, Ambrose the Grey Warden, Elissa's brother and his wife were seated at a table perched on a raised dais above all the others. From her vantage point, overlooking the nobles and their representatives, she could see a lot of expressions. Most were curious, others content, many were hard to read and a few were outright hostile. Alistair's expression revealed he'd noted them as well. "Greetings, Lords and Ladies. I hope you have enjoyed this sumptuous banquet as much as we have. Please be sure to thank Mistress Mattea and her 'army' of servants. Were it not be for her, we would be eating coal from the fire-place right now." He raised his hands and began to applaud. Mattea rose from her place at the Royal table and bowed. He had insisted she eat with them since he and his wife always invaded her space to eat with her. Besides, it afforded her a great view of the floor so that she could monitor her workers.

After the clapping died down, Alistair smiled fondly at his guests. "Now. We arrive at the **fun** part," he said with a low chuckle. "First, I hope you've noted where you are seated. Go on. Look around. Ah. You now have figured out that you were not accidentally seated beside your rival but on purpose. Who would do a thing like that? And why? Who is me and why is because, as rivals, you don't likely communicate outside of yelling and angry letters. By seating you together, family and spouses all side-by-side, you have had a chance to bond. Yes, Lord Aldrus, your son has been making googly-eyes at Lord Favren's daughter the whole night. Love is indeed in the air! And Lady Caruthen, I'll bet you never knew how charming Lord Dorman is! Do I see a friendship on the horizon?" There was angry muttering but nobody said anything rude, oddly enough. This was actually turning out better than he'd hoped.

"I've heard mutterings that this should be considered a Landsmeet. It simply is not. I won't go into why but know that this banquet serves a number of purposes, the most important being as a means to impart important information directly from our lips to your ears without the damning potential of rumors. I really hate rumors. Anyway, the other purpose is to get you, the Bannorn, talking to one another. For the next few months I may be unable to settle problems for you so you will have to do that yourself, if necessary." All of a sudden, there was a loud murmuring, like the hiss of angry wind through an open window. Alistair raised his hand and demanded silence. "To give you the reasons for this, I present to you my wife and your queen."

Elissa stared up at him in wide-eyed shock as he held out his hand. "Are you mad? Andraste's Sword, Alistair, I have no idea what to say to them! Why won't you do it? This is your show, remember?" She took it warily and let him help her to her feet. He was beaming.

His eyebrow raised with amusement at his wife's dismay, Alistair chuckled. "Well, I think they like you more. They'll be less likely to pelt you with overripe fruit when you share the news. I do mean that you are to relay all of the news. Every last bit of it, do you understand? I am more confident in your ability to articulate to our audience the adventure that awaits us, unscathed mind you, than I would be. Besides, you're prettier than I am."

"Brat…" she muttered as he sat down. He squeezed her hand gently, a silent reminder that he was there if she needed him. "It's all about self-preservation, is it? Very well." She turned to the nobles gathered and placed her hands reflexively over the slight bulge of her belly. The gesture was not ignored and murmuring began. "Greetings, my people! My husband has relinquished the floor to me so that I may continue what he began. First, I want to thank you for attending this banquet. I hope you have enjoyed it as much as we have. And second… Ah. Second, there is much on the horizon, much you need to know. I shall begin with the most exciting news." She deliberately turned to the side, her body in profile and backlit from the torches behind her. There were audible gasps of shock. "As you know, my husband and I have failed to produce a child, hard as we have tried, over the course of four years. However frustrated we have been, we are not quitters." Alistair was heard chuckling at that statement. "I am proud to say that we have finally succeeded and…"

The hall erupted in shouts and a flood of voices. Most seemed excited but some were angry. One man, a lord from somewhere near Highever, rose to his feet and accused the Queen of adultery. Alistair was on his feet in an instant, angry that anyone would dare make such an accusatory statement, especially to his Queen. "My wife has been given no good reasons to stray and every good reason not to! Watch your mouth."

"Your Majesty, you and the queen are both Grey Wardens. It is whispered that your folk cannot bear children between you. If she is indeed pregnant with a child of the Crown, then it is through vile sorcery!" the man insisted. Then his eyes narrowed as he gazed directly at the monarchs. "You were the last Grey Wardens in all Fereldan and I understand Riordan died trying to slay the archdemon. One of you took its life yet you both live. I had a brother who died at Ostagar and he said that when an Archdemon dies, a Grey Warden gives his life. Yet… you both live…"

The accusation hung in the air like the stench of decaying flesh, causing noses to twitch and suspicions to rise. Alistair and Elissa shared a look before one of them made a choice to speak. "My Lords, my Ladies, calm yourselves." Elissa began. "There was nothing sinister in our survival; simply, another chose to accept the sacrifice for us so that we may live and remain your rulers. My pregnancy is a gift from the Maker and nothing less, as unexpected as it is joyous for all of us. Rejoice in this great twist of fate and be happy for us. Though you may not support us in all things, you have desired an heir… Well…"

"…_heir_… you go, my friends!" Alistair laughed, unable to resist the potential for a pun.

There was laughter in the great hall and then Elissa raised her hand to shush them once more. "Having made that announcement, be aware that my duties as your Warden Commander do not end or even pause in the revelation of my pregnancy. I am needed once again. With the return of Vigil's Keep back to working order, I am thankfully finished with most of my duties to the north but west is another matter. My presence is once again required in Orl-." Shouts interrupted her and no amount of yelling for the hall to grow silent worked. Elissa turned her lip and glared up at her husband, who was uselessly yelling himself hoarse. He sat down heavily and growled, "Darkspawn are more cooperative than this rabble…" he muttered darkly.

"Be silent or I'll spike all of your drinks with a sleeping tonic! Obey your rulers." The hall quieted instantly. Mattea smiled as Alistair rolled his eyes to her with surprise. "Well, don't just sit there. Enjoy the quiet and make your speech!"

Alistair appreciated Mattea's unexpected intervention and was standing once again. "Your queen must travel to Orlais at the request of their Warden Commander. She made this decision with some difficulty as I was reluctant to allow her to leave. However, after a brief conversation, I realized what a pleasant opportunity her going to Orlais would be for Fereldan. Therefore, I have chosen to meet Empress Celene face to face. I am going to Orlais with Queen Elissa and Ambrose."

The hall was aflutter once again. The loudest voice among the protestors in the Hall came from the visiting Grey Warden himself. "Your Majesty, I protest! You cannot come! I forbid it. I was sent only to collect the Warden Commander herself and no one else."

Alistair and Elissa both faced him with angry stares. "Then you will return to Orlais alone, Ser, and we will happily await the birth of our child at home," Elissa growled darkly. Alistair placed a hand on her shoulder, a supportive gesture that hushed even the most determined voices. Together, Fereldan's king and queen were a mighty force that seemed to cast a palpable thrall over everyone. The Orlesian Grey Warden sat down, sputtering but said little else.

Alistair turned back to the gathered nobles and smiled warmly. "So, with your king and queen departing, you must be curious about whom you're going to run to when you're in need of royal advice and, well, we have a solution.

"Ladies and Lords of the court, I present to you your regent, 'King' Cousland! Well, Fergus, don't just sit there with your eyes wide and glazed over; stand up and greet your subjects! Elissa, your brother is drooling, I think…" She laughed and pinched Fergus on his arm.

"I'm… going… to… kill… you… both…" Fergus muttered as the hall erupted in shouting again. Alistair smirked, highly pleased with himself.

To Be Continued…


	7. Chapter 7

**Tanted Dreams **

**(Part 6)**

_(Nightmare at Sea)_

_Rocking awakens me. The scent of salt and creaking wood stirs something within me. I open my eyes and see into the rafters of a small, dimly-lit cabin. I realize that I must be onboard a ship. It seems vaguely familiar, a memory of a memory, and a place within my mind that I rarely go. _

_I rise, I stagger to my feet and step carefully as the ship tosses me from side to side. I have never been onboard a moving vessel but I am aboard one now. I am not afraid. I do not feel sick. I want to find the captain and find out why I am here. I know this is a dream but it is not like my other pregnancy-inspired nightmares. There is no fear, no Alistair threatening to leave after the Landsmeet. There is only the ship, ship-sounds and the rocking. Dreams, I know, have meaning regardless of what causes them. Some send you into the fade if they are deep enough. Most are tricks of the mind, tricks by your mind as you dwell on things without conscious direction. This is one of those, I am sure._

_Down one wooden hall and up a wooden stair, I walk, bumping along from side to side as the ship is pushed to and fro by the waves. The salt air is crisp and pleasant. It smells like the docks of Redcliffe. I miss Eamon, dear Eamon who loved Alistair so much to put him on the throne and loved me enough to support me as queen. He is sick, his body failing him and unless Teagan has told him, he does not yet know that I am pregnant. What joy it would bring him! _

_My bare feet curl around the edge of each wooden step as I make my way to the main deck. I realize that, for the first time I am clothed only in a knee-length shift of thin silk yet I am not cold. The air is warm and wind buffets my face as I emerge above the main deck. I see the captain, a handsome woman in a black leather coat and heavy cotton trews pushed into glossy black boots. Isabella looks up and smiles as I approach. Her hands reach out and grasp mine fondly and as I open my mouth to speak, she covers mine with her own. I am startled as our tongues entwine and her hand cups my breast, fingers teasing my nipple. I respond without meaning to, my hand eagerly seeking entry into her blouse. Before I know it, our breasts are exposed and we are making love with the wind buffeting our bodies and stirring our senses. Salty sea spray dampens my skin, sticks my hair to it. I am greatly aroused by this fine greeting._

_She smiles as the heat subsides and pulls her cotton shirt loosely back over her breasts. The effort is careless. I can still see a deep red nipple peering up at me and I pull up the straps of my shift. "Welcome aboard, Elissa, my friend! Or is that 'Your Majesty'? Commander, perhaps?"_

_I laugh and kiss her cheek fondly. I realize that it is truly good to see her. "Call me as you like but 'Elissa' is my name. It is good to see you. Have you been well?"_

"_Escaped the Blight by days! You and your handsome king gave me plenty of warning and I am proud to say that I'm still happily sailing the seas. Speaking of which, he is downstairs in my cabin awaiting us…" Her arm curled about my waist and she leaned in to kiss me again. I was given a free glimpse of her perfect, firm breasts, which are smaller than mine but her nipples are better defined, firmer and darker. I had never been attracted to a woman before but the thought of making love to her with Alistair made me giddy with the physical memory of what we had done in the past. All of a sudden, this dream is tolerable and must be born of sweet events taking place in the Queen's Garden._

"_So… why am I here?" I ask as she passes the helm to a member of her crew. I try to see his face but he turns away before I can see. She grabs my arm and hauls me back to the hatch I had just emerged from. She raises an eyebrow, her dark hair whipped about her face by the wind. "I don't know. That's for you to figure out."_

_I follow her down the damp ladder and into the dark place below decks. She pulls me into bowels of the crew's cabin space and up to the captain's generous quarters at the bow of the ship. She smiles at me, naked as the last time I saw her and I look at her large bed. Alistair is lying there, a rakish expression on his handsome face. He embodies youth and gentleness but there is something… odd… about him. He seems to hold the blankets to his waist. I have known him to be shy but the way he clings to the sheet is confusing to me. "My love? Are you all right?" I ask as I come to sit on the bed._

_He pats my hand nervously. "I'm fine. Just enjoy yourself, okay"? His voice isn't his. I know my husband and he is not like this strange, nervous man in the dream. Grated, it IS a dream but even in my usual nightmares he is usually himself, his voice, his actions. I rise. He grabs my hand. I pull away. "I… I must go." I am afraid for some reason. This is a nightmare! I back away very slowly and I am shocked when he peels back the covers. He is a Darkspawn from the waist down! The skin is dark, glistening, scaled in patches and his feet are clawed._

_Isabella grabs my arms. "Stay, Elissa! Stay! Please us, darling!" 'Alistair' rises from the bed, his Darkspawn lower half a grotesque interpretation of my husband's, though greatly exaggerated. I cry out and attempt to flee. I kick Isabella, spin and run. I shove a Darkspawn "crewmember" in the face with the flat of my hand. He crashes into the wall. I am almost forced against him with the rocking of the ship as it leans hard to starboard. I trip another as he reaches for me and I dodge Alistair's hands again. Free, I run down the hall, the ship working against me but I am strong and even though I am now pursued by dozens of Darkspawn "crew", as well as Isabella and Alistair, I manage to stay ahead. The rocking of the ship hinders them as well as I._

_I escape up the ladder to the deck and scramble across the wet wood. I slam down the hatch cover and I see the helmsman. He is also a Darkspawn. He is a disciple, like those I encountered in Amaranthine. His face splits into a toothy smile as he leaves the helm to approach me. "You will become one of us. Do not fight us, Warden…" He is casual as he approaches me; his strange white eyes narrow with lust. _

_I am terrified. It is too soon for the Calling but years ago, Alistair mentioned the nightmares Wardens have when it is close to their deaths. Could this be one of those? Could that be possible? I had barely been a warden for five years! It should be thirty or more! I run to the side of the ship. I hear Alistair calling my name. His voice does not come from the twisted creature bearing his visage but from elsewhere. I turn to the open sea. "Don't jump!" Isabella cries. I look at her, at the gathered Darkspawn. "I will die before I join your crew, Captain. Our time was pleasurable but I am a Grey Warden, committed to fighting these creatures, not serving them. Since I cannot defeat you all, unarmed, I am content to give myself over to whatever fate awaits me. Farewell."_

_And I jump into the icy waves far below me…_

Alistair jumps into the chill water of the freshwater spring at the heart of the Queen's Garden, his skin alive with gooseflesh at the contact. He swims to Elissa, screaming her name as he pulls her over his shoulder. She doesn't fight, she doesn't move at all. Her eyes remain closed. He hauls her to the edge of the pool and pushes her onto solid ground. With strength he didn't know existed, he practically jumps out and leans over her body. His hands push into the place under her rib-cage and he turns her head so that water can gush out. He breathes into her, pushes out more water and breathes. He repeats this many times until he hears the wheezing sound of air flooding her strained lungs. He shouts his elation and rushes to embrace her. At last, she coughs up whatever else remains and lies panting against him. She shivers, clinging to him, her wet hair in her face.

"I… I thought I'd lost you for sure…!" he pants into her hair.

Her fingers entwine behind his wet back, the cool night air teasing her skin and the moon casting a pale glow upon it. There are torches but her pale flesh seems to call the cool tones of night rather than the warm tones of the fire around them. He scoops her up and carries her back to the nest he'd made to surprise her. He buries her under the blankets and joins her, his body a long comforting jumble of muscles and love against her. She presses into him, seeking the core of his warmth. "What happened? Can you describe the Nightmare, my love?" he asks, his voice quivering with concern.

She nods. "Isabella… We were at sea. It started… so erotically. In fact… I think I am still aroused…"

"You're joking… You want to do… that… after what just happened? After you almost drowned?" He is aghast as she smiles helplessly up at him. He hovers like a nervous mother, his fingers lightly entangled in her wet locks. His thumb strokes her chin, her cheek and her lips as he props himself up on his other arm. "Hm. Forgive me if I order the gardener to fill the pool with dirt and make it a cactus garden before we return from Orlais, which I am beginning to rethink as a bad idea. I'm not loosing you again."

She laughs and holds him, pulling him down upon her. "No, I like the pool. Leave it alone. And we are going to Orlais. That is final. Anyway, the nightmare ended with Darkspawn pursuing me. Rather than become like them, I jumped."

"But the nightmares…! What happens if I cannot protect you?" he said, his eyes wide and gleaming gold in the thin light of the torches.

She snuggles against him, kissing his neck and the bulge of his throat. He swallows, tilts back his head and closes his eyes. "You will. I believe that with you around, I will be perfectly safe. We both will. And if you cannot be there, well, I am pretty self-sufficient. I ran an Arling after all, and defeated a veritable horde with just a small band of misfits. I am still Fereldan's 'Hero', you know. It'll take a lot more than a few bad dreams to kill me!"

He laughs, burying his nose into her wet hair and breathing deeply the spicy-woody scent of her body. "Determined, are you?" he smiles. Her hands tell him just what she is determined to do and he pulls her against him. "I shouldn't let you do this… Not so soon after…"

Her lips stop him from saying more. "Take this opportunity now, before we have to steal kisses like thieves in the night while we're in camp, like before. We leave in two days. Tomorrow, I doubt I will see much of you as we prepare to depart and you bring Fergus up to date on what he needs to know as regent. Myself, I'll be packing our gear. Damn… I'll need armor that suits my growing belly…"

His hands caress her breasts and his lips explore her shoulders and neck as he smiles. "Done, my dear. I have commissioned a special armor for you that will be made courtesy of Master Wade. He was more than happy to do it as its design was a special challenge. Oh and the gold was attractive to his partner. It will be ready by the time we depart."

Giggling, she reaches for what she jokingly refers to as his "human control rod" and plays with it fondly. He gasps and lies on his back, allowing his wife to take control. "For a woman who almost died tonight, you sure are frisky…" he whispers. Her lips burn a trail of searing desire down his lean, powerfully muscled body. She peers up at him, her smile beguiling.

"I have a lot to live for and I plan not on just being alive, thanks to you, but living every moment that I can. I love you, Alistair. I may be considered 'Fereldan's Hero' but you are mine. Did you know that heroes get special privileges when they rescue a woman?" she murmurs from someplace between his thighs. He shakes his head, unable to speak.

She answers his unspoken question without words, her lips and tongue and hands showing him how thankful she was to be alive, to be his wife, to be the mother of his child. He arches his back, he moans, his eyes close. In two days, they would depart for Orlais to meet an uncertain fate. But for now, for tonight, why couldn't they just enjoy each other? Sod the damn nightmares. His wife was the most beautiful woman in Fereldan and if he couldn't let her make love to him the way she wanted to, then he was just a poor excuse for a man. Maker forgive him, but you just don't say no to a woman like Elissa Cousland… Elissa Theirin, he corrected to himself. "I'm a lucky man…" he murmurs as his passion rises within him and he climaxes with the force of an exploding firebomb. Maker, the woman is good. "I'm a really lucky man!"

To be continued

_**Writer's Note:**_

_Couple of things. The first few chapters are set-up for the rest of the story. This is practically a novel, scripted and plotted out in full. Consider the last 7 chapters "Part One" of the whole. Also, the racy bits will probably drop off a bit though I've established Elissa as having a heightened sex-drive courtesy of being both pregnant and a Grey Warden. Al's not going to get the celibate treatment any time soon. Finally, "Fazsil" got a name change in the last chapter due to its utter closeness to "Fazzil" in one of the Denerim quests in the game. Ambrose is a good name that fits an Orlesian and it goes well with Fazsil, which I have kept as a sur-name for sake of continuity. I hope you continue to enjoy the tale. There are some nice twists along the way. One more thing: The intense nightmares, like this one, will continue to be told from Elissa's perspective though the tense will change when we bump back to the story line. The tense stayed in the present form for the entirety of this chapter because it suited the events. I apologize if it throws anyone off. - Rene_


	8. Chapter 8

**Tainted Dreams**

**(Part Eight)**

**The Road to Orlais Part 1**

Alistair leaned back against his pack with a contented sigh and pulled Elissa tightly against him. They had been traveling for four days now without incident or inclement weather and he was reminded just why he'd enjoyed the open road so much. Her nightmares, if you could call them that, were fleeting images of torment that caused distress but thankfully, no sleep-walking and required no rescues. The result had been a picture-perfect start to a long journey and it was time to celebrate a little. He filled both their cups with a sweet, red Antivan sherry he'd found in the palace wine cellar and offered some to Ambrose, who sat apart from the pair, his back to them as usual. He declined the offer.

"C'mon, Ambrose! Live a little! We're going to be traveling together for the next five weeks or so and the **least** you can do is be friendly," Alistair urged, topping off his cup with what he assumed was Ambrose's share. He and his wife were curled before the fire under a heavy woolen blanket, his hands casually touching and caressing her breasts and belly underneath. He wasn't thinking anything of it, though he half-worried he might get slapped for doing it out in the open but Elissa seemed to be enjoying it. As long as she was happy, so was he. "This is nice, isn't it? I miss traveling the road with you."

She sighed happily against him, her cup to her lips. The sherry was wonderful; sweet and strong without bitterness. "Mmm. No need even to pitch the tent. The weather's been perfect! I hope the rest of the journey is this delightful," she agreed, her cup held out for more. Alistair happily obliged.

"If the rest of the journey is this delightful, Fergus may find himself on the throne for the next twenty years until our baby is old enough to inherit!" They both laughed, almost spilling the sherry and then shared a long, determined kiss. Ambrose peered over his shoulder at them just at that moment and frowned. They were always kissing and laughing or teasing one another. For some reason, it bothered him.

At first, Ambrose assumed that Alistair was trying to control his wife's actions but the more he watched, the more he realized how much the union was more a partnership than anything else. They bordered a strange kind of symbiosis with each one needing the strengths of the other to survive. It was healthy and heart-warming to watch but broke Ambrose's heart for reasons he was unwilling to accept. He turned away from the happiness behind him and shut them out of his mind. He couldn't bear to watch or listen.

Eventually, Alistair broke Ambrose's mental exile with a question. "So tell me: Are Orlisian Grey Wardens anything like us? And I still have some sherry if you'd like."

Ambrose shook his head. "I do not drink that swill, Antivan or no. As far as our Wardens, they **Feel** the same as you but in Orlais, our Grey Wardens are not kings and queens! They are far more humble, knowing that when you become part of the Grey, you give up the life you led before."

Alistair curled his lip in anger, his gold-brown eyes flashing hotly in the firelight. "**HEY**! That's not fair!" he snapped. "Elissa's entire family, save her brother, was murdered shortly before she became a Grey and I was conscripted from a life of blind devotion to the Maker by our last Commander. We gladly rose to serve Fereldan as her only two surviving Grey Wardens and continue to do so still!"

Ambrose's green eyes narrowed above his crooked nose and thick, black mustache. The lines around his eyes aged him far beyond his forty or so years. "Yet you do so from your thrones!"

"Don't you do your research? We are doing what was necessary for the kingdom. The king was murdered, his army abandoned during the Blight by his own father-in-law who used his death to usurp the throne. His daughter was no less treacherous and I was the only surviving heir, courtesy of King Maric, who couldn't keep his pants on around pretty serving girls. I didn't **want** to be king but Fereldan needed me…"

Elissa sat up against her husband and added, "…and Alistair needed me. We needed each other. I had no wish to be queen but only to be by his side, however I could do it. I loved him as much then as I do today. Politically, it was a perfect union; a daughter of Highever's former Teryn and the throne of Fereldan. It was one my father had attempted to make between Cailan and me as a child but was fortunately a failure."

Ambrose grunted and turned away again, chewing on a piece of dried turkey. "So. You had no choice…" he murmured.

Alistair shook his head slowly. He enfolded his arms around his wife and settled back against the pack. "There were choices. But Grey Wardens have a nasty habit of choosing what's best for the people and not what's best for themselves. **We** chose to rule because we were Fereldan's only other option. I was not about to let that-that _**bitch **_rule Fereldan, not after what her father did to my family and **especially** not after what she did to us. A tyrant born begot a tyrant made. To do anything less would have gone against everything I believe in."

Ambrose grunted again. If it had been him, he was ashamed to say that he would have done the same. Something told him this happy pair could be content wherever they called home but being Fereldan's ruling pair was a job they took to proudly, lovingly, if sometimes reluctantly. They were Grey Wardens first, lovers second and the king and queen third. Ambrose grudgingly respected that and ended the conversation there, despite Alistair's nagging attempts to start it again. There was no more he could say on it. No more he wanted to say on it.

The next day, their luck changed.

"Highwaymen!" Ambrose shouted as they drew their weapons. Elissa, her tall shield and specially designed plate armor gleaming red in the late-day sun, rushed the first man who was temporarily startled to see a woman leading the men. It would be his last mistake. Gutted, he was thrown aside by her sword and she turned to face another.

There six in all and they moved stiffly, as mechanically as a dwarven golem construct. That wasn't to say they didn't fight well. They fought with strength and determination but seemed reluctant to attack Elissa. In fact, they avoided her altogether. That gave her the opportunity she needed. Fine! If they weren't going to strike at her, then she would happily strike at them. Shield lowered in front of her, she rushed a man who flanked Alistair closely and was about to strike him with his dagger. The sandy-haired warrior-turned-king was ready for the blow but the distraction of another foe made it difficult for him to block it properly. Elissa struck before anyone had to think. The highwayman went sailing to the ground and she swept her sword from side to side. The thief blocked most of her attacks but her sword eventually sheathed itself in the man's face on the final strike. She watched blood spray out, spattering her new armor.

Her husband dispatched his opponent swiftly and the couple joined Ambrose just as he jumped out of the way of a thrown dagger from the highwaymen's leader. He swore in Orlesian, lunged at the big man and kicked him brutally hard in the ribs. No matter how good, how stiff leather armor is made, it is still light and flexible. No matter how strong, how well-protected you think your ribs are, when a steel boot lashes out and strikes them, they will break and it will hurt. The bandit gasped and doubled over. The Orlesian Grey Warden slammed the sharp edge of his sword down across the back of the man's unprotected neck, severing the head.

The final bandit seemed to shake his head, loosening the thrall which overcame them. He stared at Elissa, Alistair and Ambrose as if seeing them for the first time. His grey eyes were wide as he stared at them. "P-please don't kill me!" he shrieked.

"And why should we not?" Ambrose growled. His main sword was dripping with dark red blood, oozing down the blade and curled around his fist. His other sword, a massive glowing curved blade with intricate designs etched into the green metal, was unsheathed but held low at his side. The bandit's eyes were bouncing between the swords as if trying to decide which one was the deadlier of the two.

"We were ensorcelled! Bewitched with foul magic! We… We would never attack Grey Wardens or anyone armed as you are! We're small-time robbers. We go after easy prey and rarely kill anyone. We're… poachers. You know? We feed off poorly armed nobles and merchants but anyone with skill we avoid because… because of things like this happening. You've got to believe me!"

Ambrose sneered, raised his sword. "Excuses! You are thieves, villains! You prey on those weaker than you for your gain. I spit on you. May the maker find reason to forgive your sins…" His sword swept back and then curved in an arc for the man's neck. The fool was weeping, knowing his life was about to end. Instead of death, another fate intervened as Ambrose's sword met the massive one-handed blade Alistair carried on his back. The blades met with a loud clang, jarring Ambrose's hand.

The Orlesian's eyes widened with shock as he met the steely gaze of his Fereldan counter-part. Alistair lifted his sword, sweeping the other away from the terrified man. "No. We are not murderers and this man has surrendered. Besides, it's rather hard to interrogate a dead man. Let him speak. Commander?" Alistair's expression softened as he looked over his shoulder at Elissa. He stepped aside as she approached.

Elissa wiped her blade on the back of one of the dead robbers and drew near the man as he groveled. Her eyes were cold, her voice level as she spoke. "I believe you are not stupid enough to attack us on your own. But who made you do this?" she asked.

Realizing that the sharp-nosed man with the slight grin had bought him time, the bandit jumped on the opportunity to save his own life. If he had known it was his own king who had spared him, he would have surely pissed himself. He recognized Elissa as the authority instantly and dropped to his knees before her, throwing his daggers to the ground. Weeping, he said, "I don't know! Nobody hired us. It just happened! I had no control over my actions. It-it all started when we found the ring on that dead merchant. We stopped thinking clearly. We started searching for… something. Then we found you and all I could think of was killing the men and taking you, ser Warden, back to… back to them. Whoever 'them' is. Or wherever. It's that damn ring our leader's wearing. Something or someone wants you something fierce, Ser. I swear, that's the truth!"

Elissa looked up at Alistair who nodded once. She turned back to the groveling man. "I believe you. Where is this ring?" The man pointed at Ambrose's beheaded victim. He indicated the right hand. Alistair raised an eyebrow and walked over to the big man's body. He kneeled beside him and carefully removed the leather gauntlet. Sure enough, there was a fat, nondescript steel-colored ring. In the waning light, it took on a purple sheen and seemed to glow slightly. The king gripped it and yanked it off the stiffening finger. He cringed at the evil he felt flowing through it. "This thing is foul! We need to get rid of it immediately."

Elissa helped the prostrate man rise to his feet. "You are free. You may return top strip your comrades of their things if you wish but leave for now. You have been helpful. But be wary of who you attack in the future since next time, someone may not be there to prevent your death. It's just good advice, you know?"

The man nodded and ran away without looking back. Ambrose seethed as he came over to Alistair who was trying to use his Templar powers to negate the magic in the ring. Ambrose snatched the ring from him. "Fool! What are you doing?" Alistair shouted, watching in horror as the Orlesian put the ring on.

Ambrose's eyes widened, lost focus and then narrowed, the expression lost. He drew his blades and lunged at Alistair. He dodged, smacking him with the flat of his blade. Ambrose fell, rolled and lunged again. "Idiot! Pull off the damn ring!" The Orlesain lunged for him, his sword held up, ready to shove it through the gap in Alistair's armor near the shoulder. Elissa rammed him with her shoulder and shield, throwing off his aim but he was still able to push it through, though not as deep as it could have gone. Bleeding, Alistair jumped at him, slammed him to the ground and held him still so that Elissa could yank off the ring. Ambrose recovered almost instantly.

Elissa, panting, hauled Ambrose to his feet and raised her fist. He never saw the blow coming but felt it as his nose shattered under the force of her white-steel gauntleted fist. Blood poured forth from his face and she turned her back to him to help her husband. She threw an injury kit at him. "Alistair…" she murmured, kneeling beside him. He was pulling off his armor, wincing as he did so.

"This is a bad place to do this… Let's go somewhere down the road where we can make camp," she said. Alistair nodded and let her help him to his feet. Since the magic of the ring did not seem to affect her, she held it as they searched for a place near water to rest for the night. Ambrose remained silent and withdrawn and the couple did not encourage him to say anything. By nightfall, they found a suitable site.

Elissa helped Alistair peel off the rest of his armor and removed hers as well. Clad only in the padded shirt and breaches she wore under it, the Warden Commander looked over her shoulder at Ambrose. "I'm cleaning the wound that you caused. Granted, your head wasn't in the right place but I'm still going to be angry anyway because you shouldn't have put it on your finger in the first place. Your nose deserved to get broken."

The sun had set, bathing them in dappled moonlight as they walked among the trees to the narrow stream they found. Alistair stripped off the rest of his clothes and Elissa joined hers with his. Naked, he kneeled on the ground carefully and sat patiently as she cleansed his wounds, cleaned away the blood from his face, neck and chest. He put his hands on her bare shoulders, stopping her briefly. "While we're alone, now, I have to talk to you. I have been thinking about something and I need an answer."

She flashed a teasing smile and shrugged away from his hands. "After I'm done dressing your shoulder, we can play." She tried to ignore the fact that he wasn't smiling.

He stopped her again. "You told me that at Soldier's Keep, you drank a potion which allowed you to conceive the child you carry now. But that was two years ago! I'm not stupid, you know. Morrigan had a hard time accepting that but it hurts knowing you're making the same assumption. You've been keeping the truth from me."

She dropped to the ground before him, her eyes on his. "Why do we have to do this now?" she asked softly.

He held her arms, rubbing them with his hands. "Something or someone wants you badly enough to bewitch a ring and send a team of ill-prepared rogues after us. We could have died. I want to know if your pregnancy has anything to do with it. I want to know if this will happen again. Tell me the truth, Elissa. How did you get pregnant?"

She smiled, tried to be cute as she said, "Well, HOW should be easy enough for you to figure out. The rest is… Not so easy. You are correct that I was keeping something from you. Worse… Alistair, I lied to you."

He nodded slowly. "Okay. This is the part where you take a deep breath, tell me you love me and then tell me everything. Don't leave out a thing, do you understand? And before you start, know that you are already forgiven. I trust you had a good reason and I won't be critical of it. I just want to know."

She sighed and allowed him to gather her into his arms. Curled against his chest, she took a deep breath, told him how much she loved him and began her tale…

To Be Continued….


	9. Chapter 9

**Tainted Dreams**

**Part 9**

**Tale of Truth, **

**No more Lies.**

**Tale of Sorrow,**

**Where No-one Dies. **

They lay together naked near the brisk water where Elissa had cleansed and dressed Alistair's wound and where they had both bathed afterward. The patch of grass they found was cool, supple and green under the soft moonlight that dappled them with patches of pale, blue light. With only velvet darkness as a blanket, Elissa cradled her head against the smooth skin of Alistair's unwounded shoulder as he held her against him; his bewhiskered chin nestled in her hair. She absently caressed his powerful chest, marveling at a beauty she'd known for more than five years and loved completely. "I lied to you. I left something out because I was ashamed it would make me less of a Grey warden," she told him softly.

He chuckled and squeezed her tightly. "You? Less of Grey warden? You're only the greatest Grey Warden Fereldan has known in recent memory and yet you make that statement. You silly thing. You could do anything, say anything, and you would always be among the greatest." He kissed her forehead then pulled her up so that he could enfold her in both arms.

She rested her chin on his chest and tried to meet his eyes. "Do you remember the day I returned from Amaranthine?" she asked softly. He cringed.

"How could I forget? Worst day, no, _week_ of my life!" he murmured distastefully.

She got up suddenly, her arms straddling his chest so that she could look him in the eyes. From his vantage, her breasts swayed pendulously and it was ridiculously hard not touch them. He tried to meet her gaze and failed. Fortunately, she was distracted by the memory and careless about where her husband's eyes were now fixated. "A bad week for you? It's not every day that you save a city and come home to a hero's welcome only to have an assassin bury a poisoned dart into your neck, thus sending you into the Fade and eventually causing you to wake up at your own funeral, on your own pyre and with your own mate standing there with the torch! And you say _you_ had a bad week!"

He chuckled and gripped her shoulders, pulled her face close so that he could kiss her soundly. "You win, my love. So, yes, I know all of that. The poison was strange… Even Anders, your apostate mage-Warden friend, was baffled. He went into the Fade after you, thought he could bring you back. He sort of succeeded, didn't he?"

Elissa nodded and perched her chin on her folded hands, which rested on his chest. "He helped me fight off demons that saw me as easy prey. It was Joy who told me what the poison was and she who guided me back to my body. The poison makes a victim unconscious, sends them into the Fade and slows heart beat and breath to an infinitesimal crawl so that even mages cannot tell a victim has not died. Skin turns cool to the touch and they obviously cannot respond. Usually, they are buried alive or set ablaze before anyone knows they yet live. Sometimes they starve to death but rarely do they ever die of the poison itself. Not knowing the Fade, they often lose themselves. The poison is insidious."

"But you have found your way through the fade a dozen times without incident!" Alistair said proudly. "If we'd known what the poison was, you would never have awakened on that pyre."

She quirked an eyebrow up at him and graced him with one corner of her lips turned into a sly half-grin. "'A dozen times' you say? Heh-heh. Perhaps four at the most but yes, I've been in and out of the Fade more than enough times that waking up in it was more annoyance than anything.

"While I was there, I was greeted by Joy, the good Fade spirit who had been helping me during my time in Amaranthine. She had effectively made me a 'Spirit Warrior', granting me abilities beyond my normal skill. I had been aware of her, aware that I was being aided but unaware that she came and went as she pleased and was helping me to satisfy her own curiosity. She explained that to me when she found me in the Fade. She then revealed to me that she was a spirit of Joy, Happiness, and Love. She proposed that in exchange for her help that I allow her to piggy-back my emotions so that she could learn why we humans love living so much, why we cling so fiercely to our corporeal shells.

"She wanted to feel what I felt. She wanted to understand love, excitement, forgiveness and pleasure. She wanted to know the joy of being loved unconditionally and sex of course. But then she also told me she wanted to feel life growing within, the joy of a woman's ability to conceive and bear a child. I… was saddened by that. I told her that though she was welcome to experience everything else, a child would become a bit of a challenge since you and I both are Grey Wardens. She seemed nonplussed by the problem that posed and said it would be easily remedied." Elissa sighed and traced the contours of Alistair's stomach muscles with her fingers, working them down below his naval. He blushed and pulled her hand back up to his chest.

"You want me cognizant and paying attention. Playing with my- playing with _that _will defeat that goal. I'm distracted enough as it is with your luscious body against mine. So, your spirit friend made it possible for us to have a child?" She nodded slowly. "So, what about your trip to Soldier's Keep? You left for there almost immediately after you recovered from the poison…"

"It wasn't the poison I had to recover from. It was the pyre-burns… I was a bit singed if I recall. Why don't the dead ever get undergarments? Is the Maker opposed to undergarments? I remember taking a huge breath and sitting up, screaming. You were there, you hauled me off of this massive pile of burning debris and my gown caught fire…"

"…I tore it off of you…" he added, smirking.

"…Leaving me bare-assed as the day I was born before every noble and visitor come to pay their respects. I was mortified! Bann Teagan and Arl Eamon were there, gawking at me right alongside my friends from Vigil's Keep! Not surprisingly, Zevran looked very happy to see me and Oghren failed to avert his eyes. Even you seemed to have this proud look on your face…"

Alistair leered at her and fondled her breast, carefully making a point of hardening her red nipple. "Well, you know, you are quite gorgeous and for maybe a second, I may have felt a bit of masculine pride that I have such an amazingly well-proportioned wife! And maybe I wanted to show you off for a second. But you did get the shirt off my back. You seem quite adept at doing that."

"And that stupid woman, screaming for someone to run a sword through me, shouting 'Abomination! She's possessed! Kill her!' I wanted someone to run _her_ through." Elissa did not stop Alistair's hand from continuing to explore her body. She was enjoying the gentle touching. Her husband chuckled into her hair.

"I soon found myself obsessing with the fact that the Spirit would make it possible for me to conceive a child with you and suddenly, mortality reared its ugly head. I couldn't imagine not being able to see my grandchildren. I realized that I just wanted a few years! I only wanted to delay the Calling and live a good, natural life with you and see my family grow up. That is why I sought out Avernus. That was why I left so soon after I recovered.

"He had what I needed and had enough for us both. He even gave me the recipe and his notes just in case he died. I gave all of that to Anders but the potion… I kept the potion." Tears flooded her eyes and Alistair's brows rose with worry as he wiped them away. "I never drank it. I just… I kept it. Just in case. I returned home and immediately regretted what I had done. I almost threw out the potion. What kind of Grey Warden regrets the choice made and the sacrifice that comes with it? I felt like I was betraying all of us, like I was betraying you. How could I be so selfish?"

He snuggled her against him, smiling with pride. "I've known a few Grey Wardens who regretted the eventual outcome of the Taint. You're talking to one of them. Your reasons were not selfish, Love. I regret that you felt that I wouldn't accept the truth but I guess I understand. I am a bit of a duty-bound stick in the mud sometimes. So. You still have the elixir then. Where is it?"

"It's on my dresser, hiding amid my perfumes."

"Um… Pretty blue bottle? Purplish liquid?"

"Yes. Why? Did you drink it?"

He made a face that made her laugh. "No but I sniffed it once. Whoo, that stuff is foul. And you're supposed to drink it? I stoppered it and set back down, figuring it must have had a reason to smell so rank. Now, is this a cure? Is it a solution? What is it?"

She chewed her lip thoughtfully. "Avernus said it doesn't wipe out the taint, it just dilutes its effect in your blood, allowing you to live longer without losing the benefit of the taint. You are still a Grey Warden, still capable of sensing the Darkspawn but you're given almost double the lifespan, about twenty years more, give or take. The calling does eventually bring you into the Deep Roads but, theoretically, if you take it, you'll be given not just thirty years but a solid fifty. That's almost a normal human lifespan depending on when you take the Oath. And it's more than enough time to have a child and watch him grow."

Alistair sighed deeply against her. "Ah. So now I understand the reason your report was so vague. I wondered. You don't have to modify the report if you don't want to, when we return. I'm just happy to know the truth now. Besides, with the recipe, assuming the stuff works, we may have a breakthrough on our hands. Think of the possibilities! So, besides having a third party watching me while I seduce you, is there anything else you're keeping from me?" he asked, his eyebrow raised and a smiled tugging at his lips.

"I'm having twins?" she offered with a snort. His eyes widened and his mouth became a sweet little "O", which she kissed playfully. "I'm teasing. I have nothing more to tell you. No more secrets. And I will never lie to you about anything ever again. It was torture just keeping that from you."

"I told you. I will always forgive you, never criticize your-"

"Oh? What if I had told you to marry Anora?"

"-I'd have strung you up by your toes and tortured you with bad jokes until you came to your senses. I hate that woman more than I despise Morrigan." He sighed after a while, content to simply hold her in the grass with countless stars above. It was nice to just take a break and let the world drift by, carelessly around them.

"Mmmhmm. I like this place. Reminds me of the time we snuck out of Redcliff Castle and made love up on the cliff," Elissa said after a while.

"Oh? How so? The sneaking out part or the grass, which there wasn't much of if I recall? And it was my rump that got the worst of the rocks. You cleverly managed to either lay on me or sit on me that night. Next time, I think I'll share the experience more equally! Then there was the smell. Very… fishy."

She laughed and tickled him until he was breathless with laughter. He eventually managed to get her lying on her back so that he could look down at her and drink in her beauty as the moonlight created tantalizing shadows upon her pale skin. He ran his hands all over her body; touching everything that he knew in his heart was his for the asking. He loved how her belly curved now, reaching for the sky. Her naval was still indented but not for long. He played with it, enduring her slapping hands with a teasing smile. "You've grown… Your belly is quite prominent now. There's no question about it: you're definitely carrying my child. What a thrill this is! I will finally have a family of my own. I never dreamed it was possible. Can we name him Duncan if he's a he?" He was babbling and Elissa loved his wide-eyed expression. She touched his face gently. Duncan was a fine name for a prince.

Elissa smiled as she watched Alistair's hands touch her wonderingly. "Of course! But I refuse to name her Goldanna if we have a girl."

"Hm. Who?" he said facetiously, brow raised. After a moment, he said, "Tell me… do you think this Ambrose is for real? He's a Grey Warden for sure but there's something… odd about him. He's nervous and fidgety. I have bad feeling about this whole thing, almost like I'm sensing a trap. My instincts have always been pretty reliable. I mean, why would he come all this way for you when Weisshaupt is closer? And what about all the Orlesain Grey Wardens? Can't they do anything? This whole thing stinks to me."

She nodded thoughtfully. "It could be a trap. But we do have business in Orlais and if there is a possibility he's not lying, I have to know. There may be people who need help. I cannot risk innocent lives, Alistair. Ambrose doesn't seem like a bad person, just impulsive and proud. I have to see it through one way or another. Though the timing could be better…"

Alistair grunted and laid himself out beside her, facing her, pulling her against him so that he could enfold her in his arms and feel every inch of her body pressed against his. Into her shoulder, he murmured, "The timing is crazy. He couldn't wait a year? Or gotten anyone else to help? You are too trusting. I just hope it doesn't get the better of you. If you don't mind, I'm not letting you out of my sight. Got it?"

She laughed, entwined her legs with his and felt the space between them diminish as she held him tightly. "Yup. Got it. I love you, Alistair. I know you hear it a million times a day but I never tire of saying it."

He grazed her shoulder with his lips and sighed happily. "Then say it a million more because I never tire of hearing it. I love you too."

They spent that night together, time forgotten, time insignificant. That was how it was when they made love, anytime they spent in each other's arms. But now, with twenty more years in a bottle awaiting them at home, time seemed to matter even less. It didn't matter whether they would drink it or not. Just having it in case they wanted it was all the relief they needed.

Assuming they survived.

To be continued…


	10. Chapter 10

**Tainted Dreams**

**Part 10**

**On a Very Cold Day in Orzammar**

**Part 1**

It was nearly a month since they had left Denerim and the Dwarven city of Orzammar loomed above and below, deep within the rocky womb of the mountain. They had traveled the North Road, the shortest distance between Denerim and Gherlen's Pass. The beginning of their journey through the pass had been uneventful but tiring. It was uphill and slow going with intermittent heavy snow-fall and an intense, bitter wind. The cloaks they wore were poor protection against the cold. Worse, the last leg had lasted about four days without them being able to stop for supplies and a decent meal. This had left the Orlesian spiteful and irritated for the duration and Alistair desperate for a break from the Ambrose's sour attitude.

It was no surprise that Alistair had disliked Ambrose at first but in recent days, he'd managed to accept the Orlesian with grudging resolve. They had to have Ambrose with them and it was more uncomfortable in silence than it was talking with him. The felt they were making progress with the taciturn fellow as they slowly drew him from his self-inflicted emotional exile. Though far from amicable, he at least replied when they spoke to him now. He seemed to be trying to avoid the tangle of friendship. Alistair wondered why.

Then the night came that Elissa showed remarkable aim with a crossbow even while half asleep. It was not her fault or even Ambrose's for that matter. Alistair had left camp to wash up, leaving his wife in a fitful slumber and told Ambrose to keep an eye and an ear out for her in case she needed aid. Then the screaming started. Ambrose kept true to his promise and entered the tent to shake her awake. This caused Elissa to reach for the nearest weapon, her crossbow, and had it loaded and shoved in his face before he could react. Understandably, the man turned and ran. Elissa fired. The bolt struck true and sank itself into his meaty bottom as he tried to flee.

Though she was instantly remorseful, Ambrose was furious and lost a great deal of his dignity that day, along with some blood. Because of the barbed tip, when he yanked out the bolt, it left behind the silverite business-end, which he refused to let anyone touch. The closest city by that time was Orzammar and that was two days ago. He was in a great deal of pain, limping stiffly, indignantly refusing assistance of any kind. Alistair for his part, managed to keep the snickering to a minimum, a thing for which Elissa was very proud of. Once, when they were alone and some distance away from their suffering companion, Alistair let out an explosion of un-king-like laughter, rolling around in the chill snow like a child. Elissa had tried to restore him to his usual nobler demeanor but there were times where his playfulness got the better of him.

But that was Alistair.

He was noble, dignified, respectful and courageous at times and irreverent and playfully sarcastic at other times. His charisma and enthusiasm were boundless. It gave him a charm that was irresistible to anyone who knew him. Elissa had loved that about him from the moment they met. She knew he wanted to say things to Ambrose that could be taken out of (or in) the context in which they were spoken. He was dying inside, wanting to tease the other Grey Warden but not daring to because of the wicked glances his wife was casting him. For his part, every chance he had out of earshot of Ambrose, he let it out in bursts of intense snickering. She tried not to give in but his laughter was infectious and more than once she found herself joining him.

"What were you doing with a crossbow by your pillow?" Ambrose asked her as they neared the plateau where Orzammar perched like an overbearing mother.

"Hmm? What, Ambrose?" Elissa asked innocently.

"The crossbow? Why? Most people keep a dagger or a sword close but a crossbow?" came the indignant reply.

"She's compact, fast and deadly to Darkspawn. It's just your foul luck I'd had her loaded with Razor Barbs. Those edges curve backwards, preventing you from removing them without doing serious damage. I know some field medicine. I really wish you would allow me to…"

"NOT on your life! You are not touching me! Not you, not him! And Alistair, I know you think this is some hilarious joke but I am not laughing. The next time, I will ensure you get the barb in the butt and we'll see how you feel about it!" Elissa looked back at her husband and the look on his open, boyish face let her know it was all over. She sighed as Alistair suddenly let out all of the laughter he'd been holding in for the past two days and some. He was breathless, tears streaming from his eyes as he came along beside her and rested his gauntleted hand on her shoulder, gripping it as he tried to regain his composure.

"C'mon! You don't find this funny, Ambrose? I mean, she shot you in the rump! Imagine; that scar will be something to tell people about for years to come. 'See this dent? It was caused by the queen of Fereldan, no less!' You'll be famous." The thought of Ambrose actually saying that caused Alistair to start laughing again and Elissa, unable to help herself, laughed and hugged Ambrose impulsively. Startled, he strained against her. With one arm around the Orlesian, she pulled Alistair into the embrace of her other arm. Ambrose tried to pull away but Fereleden's Warden Commander held firm. He looked away and grudgingly smiled and chuckled. It was more than they'd gotten from him in almost four weeks of travel and Elissa felt a blossom of hope for her companion's suspected humanity.

Once in the outdoor marketplace just outside Orzammar's city gates, Alistair suggested that Ambrose visit a certain mage while he and Elissa shopped for warm cloaks and heavy blankets to fend off the bitter cold of the mountain pass. Snow had been falling steadily and the three were ill prepared for the inclement weather.

The mage was the last person Alistair would have suggested to Ambrose as he was a glorified hedge wizard with limited skill, barely strong enough to light a candle. He sold magical items and spell components at astronomical prices to those desperate enough to pay them. His reason? "Go ahead and search for it in Orzammar, city without a lick of magic to speak of and good luck finding a town or settlement with half the quality I have!" But he was the only mage outside or inside the gates so Alistair reluctantly sent him the mage's way. "If you need us, we'll be around, hiding from King Harrowmont," Elissa told him with a fond pat on the arm.

Wincing, Ambrose raised an eyebrow. "Hide? Why?"

"We're trying to keep our visit as low-key as possible. The last thing we want is to turn this into a state visit. Those can be very time consuming. But if it were to come down to it, I think we could get Harrowmont to be understanding and let us avoid formalities. We'll be out and about here. If you need us. We dislike your mage but if you won't let me help you…"

"…I'll take my chances with the mage."

"Suit yourself! We have some sovereigns to spend." They parted ways, Alistair and Elissa going off to buy the things they needed and Ambrose heading off to hopefully get the bolt pulled and finally start healing. Alistair draped his arm around Elissa's shoulders as they shopped, his eyes on the numerous stalls as they walked by.

They soon came to a booth stocked with furs and leathers as well as a variety of cloaks, coats and robes. Elissa grew excited with the merchandise the woman offered. "These will be perfect! I wonder what strange manner of beasts wore these skins. I've never seen the like!" She was practically giddy with enthusiasm. Alistair grinned. "Oh, Alistair, look at these furs! How lovely! Feel how light-weight they are and how soft." She held it up against his cheek and he closed his eyes with a dreamy smile. "Can you imagine?"

"Imagine laying on it, surrounded by snow and your naked body?" he murmured in her ear. She laughed and bumped him with her hip. "Buy whatever you want, Love. I am agreeable to anything."

"Anything?" she purred up at him with a seductive smile.

He leaned close, his breath a thrilling burst of heat against her ear. "Anything," he affirmed.

She spied a dark place behind a tent and, after paying for three of the light, thick-furred skins, a couple cloaks and a couple of huge blankets that were light as silk and covered in the thickest, softest, densest fur she'd ever felt , she started to drag him there by the hand. Along the way, they were stopped by a squealing figure that rushed them and threw her arms around Elissa's waist. "Who-? Dagna?" Elissa gasped.

"It _is_ you! Oh, Elissa, Alistair, it's so amazing to see you! What are you doing here?" the young Dwarf exclaimed excitedly. She had hardly aged and her enthusiasm was palpable as ever. She was giddy, hugging them both. "I guess congratulations are in order. I hear you're king and she's queen-consort and you're, like, the best rulers Ferelden has had in ages! So why are you here?"

Alistair leaned forward and kissed her cheek fondly. She blushed and giggled with delight. "We're just passing through, dear. How are your studies going? Are you having fun?"

Dagna took them both by the hand and walked around to the stalls while she told them all about her studies and how exciting it was to learn from the mages. The Archmage himself was tutoring her, guiding her steps and she had managed to impress him with her determination and willingness to learn. Even the tranquil seemed dutifully impressed by her. She happily exclaimed that she had discovered her calling and somehow, in the middle of all the words that tumbled from her lips, she revealed that she was betrothed to a surface-born dwarf who had a knack for organizing so refined that it amazed and pleased the mages. Even the Tranquil were hard-pressed to maintain the library as well as he did. So now the Circle was home to two dwarven scholars. She sighed dreamily. "He's a dwarf after my own heart. He has such soft hands…! Not like the Stone-Born, who always have these meaty, calloused mitts. I love him so much. The wedding is in a few months. Oh, Alistair! Elissa! Can you please, please, please come? It would be such an honor!"

The royal pair shared a look and Elissa smiled gently as she laid her hands over swollen belly. The scaled armor flexed, revealing the slight curve. "If we can. I'm afraid your wedding may be in conflict with something very dear to us."

Dagna's eyes followed Elissa's hands and widened hugely. "Are you…? You're really…? Oh, Elissa! Alistair! I am so happy for you! AH! How exciting! This is wonderful news! We don't have a set date so we'll wait. I promise. You're so important to me that I'll wait until the baby's born. When are you due?"

Elissa thought for a moment. "Hmm. I am a little over four months along now, I guess. So about five months give or take a week or two. Don't worry about putting off your wedding too long. We'll be there. I promise."

That elicited another excited hug from Dagna, whose cheeks were bright red and whose eyes shed happy tears. "I love you both so much! Don't worry. I'll send out a message when we get a date set and I'll give you lots of time to have the baby. My next problem then is where. I want my parents to be there but they won't come if they have to travel all the way to Lake Calenhad. They dislike the idea of me living on the surface but they've accepted the fact that I just don't want to do anything else in my life. I'm in my element and I've learned more than I ever dreamed and I'm still learning!"

"Why don't you have it here?" Elissa asked as Dagna stared up at her, eyes wide as saucers.

"W-what?" she asked.

Elissa turned around and gestured to the raised platform in the center of the market. "Have your wedding here? This- stage -would be perfect, don't you think, Alistair?"

He thumbed his whiskered chin thoughtfully before bobbing his head in agreement. "You could set up poles around the perimeter covered in colored streamers and it would be close enough for friends and family to attend," he suggested with a smile.

Dagna was so happy, she was bouncing with exuberance. "Yes! Yes! That's perfect! Then… late Spring? Roses will be in bloom. Have you ever seen a perfect rose before? I want them everywhere! You guys are amazing. Thank you!"

"Dagna, what brings you here?" Alistair asked as she strolled with them, watching for useful items among the stalls. Occasionally, Elissa would stop and offer a few coins for something as they talked. "Are you visiting family?"

The dwarven "mage" smiled but her expression was gently serious. "Sort of. I've come to tell them I'm engaged for one thing and… I'm here on official business to see the Shaper and add some things to the Histories. I've made a lot of discoveries that would blow your minds. The library at the mage's tower is everything I ever dreamed and then some. I'm something of an ambassador now and pretty important. It makes my father's teeth ache just thinking about it but too bad. I have the life I've always dreamed of. Who needs Caste when you're doing what you love?"

Alistair hugged Elissa tightly, squeezing just enough to make a point. "I couldn't have said it better myself, Dagna."

"I guess I better go now. It was great seeing you both! Come by the Circle Tower as soon you can and visit me so I can introduce you to Orvan. He's so amazing. I just know you'll love him. Farewell!" After a quick hug to both her friends, Dagna left with a final wave and scampered up the steps to the city of Orzammar and disappeared behind the massive doors to the city of Dwarves.

Alistair appraised his wife's purchases with a critical eye as they watched the young scholar leave. "So. Now what? We done shopping?" he asked hopefully.

"Uh huh. Done shopping, my love. But you promised me something."

"I did? What did I promise?" he asked, eyes twinkling.

"'Anything'" she replied with a mischievous grin.

He blushed as she hauled him by the hand to a place where two tents created a kind of alley along a fenced portion of the stony mountain-side. It was dark with one way in and a very narrow space at the other end. "Ah, and what do you intend to do here?" he asked, his cheeks red.

She reached up under the chain mail that hung like a short skirt around his hips and removed the metal cod-piece protecting his groin. Designed with men's needs in mind, the device was rugged and offered protection from general attacks to that region but was ridiculously easy to remove. She knelt down before him, her long lashes shadowing her teal eyes. "'Anything,' I want, of course!" she stated as she gazed intently at the "anything she wanted". He was becoming aroused just from the intense look on her face.

"Are you sure you want to… um… here? There's people, you know, shopping? And selling… It's so… public…" She ignored him and proceeded to ignore his protests. He was minding it less and less as she entertained herself at his expense. Her lips and tongue were doing amazing things to him and he closed his eyes, arched his neck and sighed dreamily. As long as he kept his back to the entrance to the alley, nobody would know any different, right? He moaned. Well, not if he kept moaning like this. It was hard not to, though. Elissa had such a way with her mouth, such talent in the way she used her tongue... He could have been on the platform in the market's heart right now, watched by dozens of people and he wouldn't have cared.

But the pleasure was cut short just shy of him reaching the summit by a guard dressed in Orzammar's royal crest. "Ser?" the guard said as he approached and then he realized what was going on. "I apologize! I don't mean to, ah, interrupt but are you not the Grey Wardens the Circle Ambassador was talking to?" Alistair's face flushed as red his lover's hair and he swallowed nervously. He remained where he was, afraid to move. Ferelden's Queen, for her part, disengaged her mouth much to Alistair's combined relief and disappointment. Elissa, looking annoyed, peered around Alistair's thighs. "Unfortunately, we're guilty as charged. What do you need?" she muttered darkly.

"You've been summoned by the captain of the Legion of the Dead. There is a concern he needs to discuss with you and the king wishes an audience as well," the guard explained nervously. It was clear what the two humans had been up to and the irritation on both their faces made him very uncomfortable.

Elissa fixed the cod-piece pack into place, reinstalling some of Alistair's dignity. He turned around and helped his wife back to her feet. He said "I guess we have been discovered." He sighed heavily. " Very well. Hopefully nobody will make a big deal of it. We may need a healer when we get inside, Ser. We have a companion who is a bit worse for wear."

"Will do, Ser Warden! As soon as you are able to, please head to the main gates and enter the Hall of Heroes. The Legion Captain will be awaiting you there. I will collect you shortly after your meeting with him and your companion will be seen to."

The guard left the pair leaning against each other, Alistair's arm draped loosely around Elissa's shoulders. "Well, _that_ totally killed the mood…" Elissa muttered darkly.

"You owe me." Alistair told her.

"What?" she asked, snapping her head to look up at him.

"Just saying. You shouldn't start things you can't finish…" he said with a sly smile and prepared to bolt. There were daggers in her eyes now. She made a grab for him and he ran, laughing, out of the alley.

To be continued


	11. Chapter 11

Elissa and Alistair made their way through the market in search of their Orlesian companion. When they found him, he was drugged out of his mind and lying on his stomach with his rump exposed and the mage seated in his favorite chair counting the gold coins one at a time. The bolt was still embedded in the tight muscle of his buttock. Elissa could see it gleaming in the lamp light and from what she could tell, nothing had been done. She was furious. She marched up to the mage and tapped her foot until he acknowledged her. He looked up, startled to see two very menacing Grey Wardens looming over him, arms crossed, looking dangerous.

"So tell me," Alistair began as he came across to the front of the mage. "What were you planning to do besides swindle our friend here? I believe he paid you to remove that bolt? It's still there I see."

The mage looked at the table and then smiled nervously. "I'm no healer. I don't do that sort of thing. I told him that but he insisted I try and, well, I accepted and after drugging him, I decided I would rather operate on his coin purse than on his arse. That's a much nicer task anyway. A lot less blood."

Elissa looked over the mage and caught Alistair's eye. "That's a rather frank admission of guilt," she noted. She drew her dagger and placed the point against the back of his neck where the spine met his skull. The point drew a bead of red that oozed down his neck. She felt him stiffen against him. "You know that we were both trained as Templars and you just happen to be an apostate. What's even better is that you also happen to be bilking the innocent and you know what? That really pisses me off. Take the coins, Alistair."

Ferelden's king smirked as he removed the pouch and its contents from the mage's hands. "This _all_ his?" he asked.

"Most of it. Um, almost all of it. Well, all of it. Wait. You're not _robbing_ me, are you?" the mage whined to his captors. "Good people don't rob! That's a bad thing to do."

Alistair shook his head as he pocketed the coins. "We're taking back our friend's coin. That's not technically robbing you because it wasn't yours to begin with. My lady, if we are done strong-arming this fellow, I would appreciate it if we left with our _friend_."

She nodded but before she left, she walked around the front of the mage and hauled him up by the front of his tunic until they were nose to nose. "Bad mage! Do not steal from innocents! As it is, I have every intention of reporting you for this and you will no longer be allowed to sell your wares here."

"But-but-but if I go, there will no longer be a mage-craft merchant outside Orzammar! Where will people go?" the mage asked, his voice pleading. Elissa shoved him back into his seat and walked away.

"Be thankful we're not reporting you to the Chantry. Let's go before I cut that pathetic look off his face," she muttered, lifting the tent so that Alistair could half-drag a semi-comatose, drooling Ambrose out of the tent.

"You are a wicked, wicked woman. It makes me thankful you're my _wife_." Alistair remarked as they propped the drugged man between them. He had an arm across the shoulders of each Warden and for some reason, his hand kept migrating to Elissa's breast. She smiled at her husband sweetly and he rolled his eyes. "Noo… Don't you play sweet and innocent with me. I know you better! It's why I made you queen. You're too dangerous otherwise." She laughed and smacked the offending hand as it reached yet again for her breast. "I hope he doesn't think he'll actually grab anything. You're sealed tighter than raw clam in that suit."

Elissa nodded but smacked the hand anyway. There was an iota of conscious thought behind that hand and it needed to learn you don't grope ladies without asking first. They were walking toward the Gates of Orzammar with Ambrose propped up between them. He was on the edge of consciousness, head lolling, and drool oozing from the corner of his lips. His eyes were dilated and huge and he kept leering at her. Once close to the steps, something gripped him and he dug his heels in.

"Whe' we goin'?" he demanded, struggling against the pair.

Alistair pointed to the Gates. "Orzammar. We have business with the king and you have business with a _real_ healer."

"N-n-no! No! Musht… keep goin'! Orley! M'wife… Musht not delay… or… gone! All will… be… gone!" He pushed against them and staggered away from their grasp. Alistair stared at Elissa wearing a shocked expression. They caught up to him quickly as he stumbled in a patch of ice and sprawled to the ground. Ambrose cried out in agony as he landed, hard, on the bolt-pierced side of his posterior. Blood could be seen on the ice. It must have been oozing through a seam in his pants. Before they could ask him what he was talking about, he vomited up breakfast as well as a sickening green fluid that Elissa recognized immediately.

She looked up at Alistair as she kneeled beside the retching Orlesian and frowned. "He needs a healer at once. That's Deathroot and, depending on how much he was fed, it could kill him. Also… I think he's bleeding again." They tried to help him to his feet but the man fought them, repeating "no" like it was some mantra that would help him escape. It was rather like listening to a toddler, Alistair decided. He looked pointedly at his wife and said, "Think of this as training for your future…" She stuck her tongue out at him. Right. Very mature for the mother of his children let alone the queen of Ferelden.

They managed to get him to stop trying to escape but soon realized it was because he had passed out. Alistair sighed. "YOU want to carry him?" Elissa's gentle lift of her eyebrow, the subtle twist of her lips and the firmness with which she crossed her arms gave Alistair his answer. He sighed again. "Great. I get all the hard work while you get to just stand and point." He hauled Ambrose up over his shoulders and waved Elissa on. She smiled and pointed to the gates causing Alistair to grunt before kissing her cheek as she walked past him. "See? What'd I say?" But as they walked, a piece of neatly folded paper tumbled from Ambrose's pocket.

"Wait," Alistair said. Elissa stopped. "What's that?" he asked as she kneeled down and picked it up.

"I don't know if I should read it. It could be personal…" she said, turning it in her fingers.

"I think it's important that you do. It might help us figure out why he wants you." His logic was good. His words made sense. Damn him. Reluctantly, Elissa sighed and unfolded it before she knew what she was doing. "Hmm. It says, 'Our deal is firm. Do as I ask or it's over. Bring the Warden Commander, no-one else and you will have it all back.' It's not signed. The letters are… very neat. Educated. Like yours. Alistair, Ambrose must be in trouble! This confirms it. It's not Orlais that needs me but… Someone else."

Ferelden's king narrowed his eyes darkly. "Why didn't the fool just say so!"

"Fear? Maybe his wife is in trouble and that's why he's been pushing us. So it's possible there is no Darkspawn threat and everything else was just a ruse to get us to Orlais so that we can deal with his hostage problem. Do you think?" Elissa was chewing thoughtfully on her lip as she thought it over. Alistair stared wide-eyed, at her for what felt like a long time.

After several moments, he said, "You are not going anywhere alone with him. That is final. We do this entirely together or not at all. I was willing to let you see this through before but now… Now I am afraid of what might happen to you, to our child… to us all. It's all growing very complicated."Her only reply was to nod. There were times when she could reason with him and other times when his obstinacy was impossible to overcome. She picked her battles with him carefully. They continued to the gates in silence.

They were greeted by the Gate Guard and ushered inside. The warm, smoky air was almost stifling after the cold, crisp air outside. A dwarven woman in dark-green leathers stalked up them with long purposeful strides. "Finally, you've arrived. I was getting tired of waiting on you." She indicated that Ambrose should be placed on the marble floor of the Hall of Heroes for her inspection. Thankfully, happy to be free of his burden, Alistair rolled the comatose man onto the cold floor so that he was face down. The Dwarven woman, her thick black curls hiding her unusually pretty face, looked him over carefully. Unnecessarily, she asked, "Now, what's up with him? Besides the deathroot poisoning? He reeks of it. And something else."

"I shot him with a cross-bow bolt," Elissa admitted casually.

The dwarf smirked up her. "Did he deserve it?" she asked.

Elissa shrugged. "I was half asleep. I suppose I thought he deserved it at the time that I shot him. He was trying to roust me from a nightmare and I think I mistook him for a Darkspawn. I tried to get him to let me take it out but he refused and hedged his bets on the mage outside the gates."

"That idiot mage again… We keep having to fix his stupid attempts at healing and I for one, have been getting tired of it. So what if he's only hurting Surfacers? I'm the one who has to repair the ones he screws up! I'll see to it that his contract's canceled and he's run off for good this time.

"Sooo… Good ol' 'ass-bolt'," the Dwarf remarked coolly with a sardonic twist of her mouth as she checked the wound. "It's got a small infection but otherwise looks okay. Close to the surface of the skin. Easily operable. Warrior Caste Trainees get it all the time down here. Nothing we can't handle. It's just like pulling out a splinter. The poison… That's something else. I'll have to get our herbalist to mix something up for 'im. Either way, your friend'll live, give or take a few stitches and his pride." She turned to the two fellows coming up behind her with a litter and gestured to the patient. "Ass-bolt, boys. Be careful." The two male dwarves heaved Ambrose onto the litter and lifted it up to their shoulders. They carefully made their way through the hall under the healer's watchful smile.

"Your friend will be in the infirmary in the Diamond Quarter. I'll see to it he has some space to himself though I can't guarantee there won't be another ass-bolt victim there as well. I figure three days with his butt up in the air and he'll be good as new. You two have business with the Walking Dead over there so I'll leave you be."

The Healer grunted and followed her assistants down the vast hall the Dwarves erected to the Paragons of the past. Idealized monuments, larger than life, loomed over them, their names neatly carved into each base along with an explanation of their contribution. This was the Dwarves' "religion"; it was their history… fact… something tangible to give the present faith for the future. It was easy to see why the Dwarves followed this reasoning as it was steeped in, well, reason. Though she'd been through the Hall of Heroes many times, Elissa still felt a chill of awe as she walked among the massive statues.

Near the exit to the Commons, a dwarf stood head to foot in Amor created by the Dead Legion for their use. It was expertly crafted and seemed carved like the stone the metal was extracted from. The lines were severe, practical but not without beauty. His helm was tucked under his arm and bright red hair flowed across his chest to blend in with the braids of his beard. His "smile" was a surly twist of his lips as he saw them approach. He was young and unfamiliar, his face already scarred. The last Captain of the Dead Legion had been something of a friend to them so they wondered why they were being met by this fellow. Alistair greeted the Dwarf with a hearty handshake that might have left the human with broken bones had he not been wearing dragonbone gauntlets.

"Where's…?" Alistair asked. The Dwarf smiled. "My predecessor? Went to the stone some six months ago. He died fighting a swarm of them, he did. I hope I go that way. He must have taken down fifteen? Twenty? More? Ah. Hero in my opinion. Welcome back to Orzammar though I understand you had no intention of actually staying. I apologize for that. It might have been my own fault. So I'll make this short and sweet so that I don't waste either my time or yours.

"You know that we of the Legion of the Dead watch for Darkspawn as they rise to the surface. Those that go too far, die. It is our hope, each of us, that we return to the stone killing as many of these beasties as we can. Living or dying has no meaning since we are already dead and have nothing to lose. Well, our other 'job' is to watch and learn. Darkspawn do something weird, we like you Wardens to know about it especially since it's your folk who have to deal with 'em on the surface. Well, they're doing something _weird_."

Alistair held up his hand. "Wait. Define… _weird_."

"About two months ago, our deepest scouts noticed that they had begun to move. It was a horde. But not just any horde. It was a horde of the smart ones. The spell-casters, alphas, you get the idea. The stupid ones, the followers, were getting left behind, almost as if something's calling _rest_ of 'em. I don't think it's another Archdemon. No… Too soon. But what they're up to is anyone's guess. Strange thing is, they appear to be heading west. All of 'em. Know anything about it?"

The pair gazed at one another with identical expressions of annoyance and concern, eyes wide and lips tightly shut. The dwarf might have laughed had the situation not been so dire. Elissa sighed at the same time her husband did and nodded. "We didn't but we do now. There are things afoot in Orlais and we are headed there to address those problems. I fear this… situation _we_ are dealing with is much bigger than we could have imagined." She sighed again and leaned against Alistair. He took the back-pack with the winter purchases from her and slung it over his shoulder to rest opposite their supplies and his sword and shield. He now resembled some kind of two-legged pack-mule with a blunt face and blond hair. He looked nothing like the king he was and he was happy with that. For now.

The Legion of the Dead captain cleared his throat. "Well, I told you what I know. It's your turn, my friends. Good luck out there. You may need it. Ancestors guide you."

Alistair nodded. "Ancestors guide you, my friend." He looked down at Elissa, who looked weary; her spirit faded, her body exhausted and he encircled her shoulders with his arm. "Come on, love. The guard there said he would get us a place to stay and the king will most likely feed us. It's been a long day." She nodded against him and allowed him to draw her deeper into Orzammar.

* * *

The king was every bit as hospitable as he'd ever been. He gave them a room in the Royal Palace, fed them at his own table and treated them as honored guests. Elissa was quick to remove her armor and dress in a plain gown of silky cotton and soft leather boots. It was a travel-dress, designed for ease of use and comfort rather than style. The dress also made it visibly clear that she was pregnant; her belly pushed the thin fabric away from her legs. It took little time for Harrowmont to pick up on it. Alistair, proud father-to-be that he was, sang her praises and even got her to laugh.

But there was no doubt that she had had enough of the day. At some point during the visit, Harrowmont smiled and nodded his bearded chin at Alistair's dozing wife. He realized that the loving weight of his wife's body was silent and she was breathing slowly, deeply in the breathing of the sleep-deprived. She was more at peace now than she had seemed in recent days. He apologized to King Harrowmont and scooped his lovely red-headed bride into his strong arms and carried her sleeping form away to the huge, comfortable bed they reserved for human visitors.

He carefully laid her in it and removed her boots, the dress and gently cradled her head in a pillow's soft embrace. Then he stripped himself of his clothing and blew out the candle before lying down beside her. Tenderly, Alistair pulled his pregnant wife into his arms so that he held her tightly against him, the length of her along his muscular body. He felt her nestle her cheek against his chest and slide her fingers around his neck. He smiled and exhaled in contented silence, his heart filled with adoration and admiration for the miracle he held.

To Be Continued…


	12. Chapter 12

**Tainted Dreams**

**Part 12**

**Orzammar Concluded**

_(Apologies for the lemony beginning. This story is going to get dark soon so we may as well start light and fluffy.)_

"Good afternoon, my love! I brought you some food and a cup of pure, cold water," Alistair said cheerfully as he roused his sleepy wife. She blinked her teal eyes up at him and tried to think through what he'd just announced. Afternoon? _Afternoon_? She rubbed her red hair out of her eyes. "What do you mean, 'afternoon'? Please tell me you're joking. Surely I haven't slept that long!" she moaned, holding his face so she could look into his laughing golden-brown eyes. He kissed her heartily and rolled over onto the bed, causing it to bounce underneath her.

"Well, all right. It's not afternoon _yet_. But it's damn close. In two more hours, I find a couple pieces of bread, lots of cheese, a bit of meat and some oil and I make a sandwich," he told her with a dreamy sigh.

She blinked her eyes at him as it dawned on her just how late it was. "But you let me sleep in _so late_! I _never_ sleep this late."

He shrugged and handed her the plate of some kind of meat, eggs and a fried concoction of tubers and sliced mushrooms. There was buttered toast as well. She was thankful for it but remained aghast that he let her sleep in so long. She ate the fried tubers and sweet venison with relish. She was hungry and had forgotten just how good well-prepared deer could be. The eggs were perfect. "You haven't slept this well in ages. No nightmares, no bad dreams… I wasn't about to squander the peace you were enjoying. You needed it."

"Maybe so but that doesn't mean you wait until lunch to awaken me. Does Harrowmont _really_ have cheese for sandwiches?" she asked him softly.

Alistair nodded excitedly. "Oh yes! King Harrowmont keeps this amazing 'Redcliffe White' that's sharp but sweet and oh _so_ rich! Did you know we make cheese in Redcliffe?" Alistair rolled over onto his side, his eyes dancing with a smile that crossed his face from cheek to cheek. He was adorable. Elissa smiled in return and shook her head. "We do! You see, there was a lady, an old woman I stumbled upon as boy while hiding from Bann Teagan. I believe I had just thrown mud at him… Anyway, I entered someone's house covered in mud and she took one look at me and stuck me in a bath. She didn't even ask me my name. But she did let me watch her make her cheese. And… she let me eat it too. Until that old cheese-maker, I never knew that cheese was made from… Can you guess?"

Elissa laughed, relishing his cheery mood. "Rotten milk?" she giggled.

"No!" he said excitedly. "Rot-_ting _milk! Even after the cheese is solid, it continues to age depending on the processes the cheese-maker uses to produce it. It's only when it's sealed in wax and taken out of its environment does it become what we know and love as cheese. I'm sorry. Am I babbling?"

She pushed him over onto his back and proceeded to kiss him. "I find it very cute when you babble, my sweet." Her kisses were becoming very hot and her hand was doing amazing things to his groin. Had she removed his cod-piece already? Maker's Mercy, the woman was quick! He rolled her over with a quick kiss and practically bounced out of the bed. "I'm sorry, love. I can't, ah, be playful with you right now. I'm stuck playing 'Royal visitor' to King Harrowmont and I promised I would return after checking on you."

Elissa pouted and pushed herself onto the side of the bed. She carefully unbelted his armor from around his waist and dropped it piece by piece to the floor. "Don't I… owe you?" she purred sweetly. He swallowed hard as she hungrily continued the day prior's oral entertainment. He had to go back. He needed to go back. He was stuck as surely as if he'd been rooted to the spot. The thing about Elissa Theirin was that she rarely backed down from a challenge and that included him saying "no" to her advances. Oh, he could try but she always won in the end.

Nearly an hour later, they were lying naked in bed together with her fingers tracing little swirls into his smooth skin. There was a faint dusting of short, blond hair but unless you knew it was there, you couldn't see it. She liked to run her fingers against the grain of it and trace the circumference of his areolas with her nails. He giggled.

Alistair liked to claim he wasn't ticklish but Elissa had learned that claim was untrue. You just had to know where to go. And in an ironic twist of fate, his ticklish spots tended to overlap his erogenous areas. It seemed to entertain her to no end knowing that at the same time she was making him laugh, she was turning him on. That was why tickle fights between them seldom occurred in public; they never lasted very long and often ended up with him shoving her up against a wall, her dress hiked up to her waist, her thighs encircling his hips and his loins embracing hers as he devoured her lips with his mouth.

For Alistair, sex was one of those things he'd learned to thoroughly enjoy since first becoming her lover. He was glad he'd waited for her but at the same time, he often wondered how he'd made it without it for so long. In the end, he wasted no time making up for all those lost years. It helped that his wife was a willing participant who had a hunger that matched (and sometimes eclipsed) his own. Fortunately for them, being King had its privileges and being 'fashionably late' as necessary was one of them.

"You're an evil woman, Your Majesty…" he murmured to her as his fingers caressed her bare shoulder. Those fingers trailed down the swell of her breast to stroke her nipple. Pregnancy, he noted with a thrill, was doing amazing things to her already incredible body. Firstly, her large breasts seemed fuller, the nipples huge and dark. They were like twin bull's-eyes for his pleasure. Then there was the sexy sway of her hips and the way her spine began to curve, causing her round bottom to stick out prominently. Finally, she exuded this air of femininity and softness. He hadn't married a soft woman and nor did he want to but his wife just seemed so incredibly sexy to him right now. He loved it. "Poor King Harrowmont is _still_ waiting for me to return and here I am, ensnared in your web of lust. You've already sucked me dry. Now what do you plan to do with me?"

She leaned over him and used her tongue to tease his nipple. "Hmm. I could tie you to the bed and leave you alone for a while so that I can visit Ambrose and return with your lunch… Then you would be helpless and I could do anything I want to you…"

He laughed, pulling her against him. "Maker, but I am a lucky man to have such a vixen as my wife. But that Cailan had been so lucky, he might have had an heir! Alas, it is I who benefits. Sadly, as entertaining as your idea sounds, I really think I should go back to the Dwarves' king. Have I told you I love you today?" He pushed her face away, his fingers tracing her chin and cheek and gazed deeply into her mesmerizing teal eyes.

She kissed his lips playfully, nipping at them. "_Maybe _while you were in passion's throes but not since. I'll hear it again, if I must…" she sighed dramatically.

He told her he loved her in a low murmur as he kissed her lightly. Then, slowly, reluctantly, he rose from the bed and stretched. She watched him from where she lay on her back, her eyes holding a soft, dreamy look in them. He leaned over the bed and covered his mouth with hers briefly before starting to dress. Eventually, she too rose and donned a calf-length gown of soft blue wool and black satin. "So you plan to check in on the patient, do you?" Alistair asked her as he tightened the last buckle of his armor.

She nodded and stood before a short mirror, checking the size of her swelling midsection. She cupped her hands under her belly, looking at herself from all angles. She still wasn't very big but she had grown considerably over the past few weeks since discovering she was pregnant. "I want to ask him about the letter. I need to know what is going on."

Alistair approached her from behind and reached around her body to lay his hands over hers, the both of them holding her belly from underneath. He rested his chin upon her shoulder and smiled into the image reflected back at them. He wanted to preserve it forever. Cheek to cheek they stood, bodies pressed close, holding the thing that mattered most to them. "I agree. The sooner this all gets sorted out, the sooner we can get back home to Denerim and you can just simply enjoy being pregnant."

She blinked at his reflection in the mirror and locked her eyes with his. "'_Enjoy_ being pregnant'?" she asked with a raised eyebrow. "You're welcome to 'enjoy' the retching, the stretch-marks, the sleepless nights, the mood-swings and the fatigue. Oh and let us not forget the 'look like a swollen cow' part. By all means, Alistair my love! Be my guest!"

He made a sour face at her and shook his head. "Not a chance. And here I was thinking it was normally a pleasant thing… You women make it all look so easy. Nope. I'll just stick to doing the easy part of grinning like a fool as you seduce me."

She turned around in his arms and looped her arms around his neck. "And you are so _easily_ seduced. I have only to bat my eyes… Oh and thank you for breakfast. You were quite tasty."

He smiled as he held her. "You can thank King Harrowmont. He suggested it."

She laughed and hugged his neck tightly. "No-no. I didn't mean the food… I meant the delicious meat stick I got to enjoy first… It was so big and thick…"

He immediately turned a shade of red normally seen on apples at the height of harvesting. "Ah… The… Right. Uh… Heh-heh… Um… Thanks?"

She kissed his cheek, giggling, and after a quick check of the room, they headed out to Orzammar's quiet Diamond Quarter. Unlike the noisy, bustling commons, the Diamond quarter had an almost cloister-like quiet to it. It was unsettling. As they walked, Elissa looked sideways up at Alistair. "Ah… I have a question. Have you ever had an itch you had so often that eventually you grew accustomed to it and didn't realize had been there until one day it went away?"

He grinned and squeezed her hand. "My darling, if you want information on chronic itching, you might want to ask Oghren or Zevran instead. I'm hardly an expert."

She laughed and gave him a playful shove. "I'm serious, Alistair!"

Casually, affectionately, he draped his arm about her shoulders, savoring briefly the difference in their heights. "Yes, so am I. I've never been in that situation and nor do I plan to."

She laughed again, knowing full well that she was being teased. As she laughed, a noble glanced sharply in their direction as if about to chastise them for their playful banter. "Alistair, since the first nightmare, I've had a… nagging sensation, like an itch. At first, it disturbed me but eventually I learned to ignore it. But since coming down here, I'm at ease, no sensation."

He blinked at her as they stopped just outside the infirmary. "Huh. Why do you think that is? I noticed how peacefully you slept. It was refreshing."

She shook her head and hugged him; her arms keeping him close against her for a moment. "I don't know, Alistair. I find it all very strange. Nothing makes sense right now except you. You have a way of keeping me grounded, you know. I'm glad you insisted on coming along."

He held her tightly and exhaled into her red hair. "Aye, my love. I'd have been a terrible husband if I had not come. It was your idea, if I recall. We will see this through. One way or another, the pieces will begin to fit and when they do, we can head home, mysteries solved and the world none the wiser for our efforts."

He kissed her lips a final time before holding the door for her. "Meet me in Harrowmont's study when you get done, my love. We'll have lunch and more, ah, _pleasantries _with our gracious host." The way he said that made her giggle. Alistair was someone who dealt well with the social requirements of being king but he preferred direct action over simply talking things through. It probably was a result of his scattered upbringing and his path as a warrior, Elissa decided. He was bored out of his mind and wanted to just get back on the road and deal with whatever surprises lay in store. They parted company with a final quick kiss and Elissa waited for the door to close before continuing.

"Hello?" she said as she ducked inside the infirmary. She was greeted by a healer who recognized the human as one of the visiting Grey Wardens and gestured for her to follow. Down a hall and to the right, the healer led her to their final destination, a door with two names written on plaques. She opened the door and Elissa smiled at a young dwarven man lying on his belly in a bed. The curtain to his alcove was wide open while the second alcove had its curtain firmly shut. The patient was propped up under his chest with pillows so that he could read a book. He spotted her and waved. "Hi! You must be Elissa. Are you coming to see your friend? He was right! You really are pretty. Between you 'n me, I think he likes you. _Really_ likes you. Have a good visit!" She didn't know why but she was blushing. Not since her childhood had a man other than Alistair viewed her as anything other than a friend. The notion of Ambrose finding her attractive was disconcerting and she tried to ignore it.

She pushed her way through a curtain to the second alcove where Ambrose was in a similar position. She grabbed a chair and pulled it close to the bed. Ambrose looked up at her with one bushy brow raised and then looked away. His face was dark with stubble and he looked gaunt, frail even. "What do you want?" he grumbled in his thick Orlesian accent.

She smiled gently and placed her hand upon his shoulder. "To see how you were. I sincerely feel bad for the bolt. Can you forgive me?"

He flinched at her touch and shook his head against the pillow. "There is nothing to forgive. It was an accident and no harm done. There. _Done_. Can you leave me now?"

She shook her head and withdrew the note. "I need you to explain some things to me, if you don't mind. Yesterday, you blurted out that you thought your wife was in danger…" Ambrose waved his hand dismissively. "Nat! The ravings of a drugged, pain-blind fool. You heard wrong. Leave me now."

Elissa sighed and slipped the note under his hand. He took it and blinked his eyes at it. She thought she saw tears. "You… You went through my _things_? Read my personal missives? How _dare_ you?" he cried incredulously.

"It fell out of your armor when Alistair lifted you to bring you here. Yes, we did read it but it was for concern of you. We are trying to understand you so that we can _help_ you. Are you in trouble? Is your wife in danger?"

Ambrose's eyes flashed with something Elissa swore looked like terror. They were wide, wet and so inexplicably sad. "I… can_not_ say."

She was determined to find the answer. "Ambrose, I don't understand. What do you mean? Is someone close to you in trouble? Are _you_ in trouble?" she pressed him, her hands touching his arm.

He reached for her hands and held them tightly, his eyes haunted and streaming with tears. "I have told you, woman, I can_not_ say! But I will tell you this, _Mon ce'air,_" he squeezed her hands in his sweating palms. "When I have delivered you to those who sent me, my life will at last return to the way it was and I can _finally_ be at peace again, do you understand?" He was weeping now. It was the most vulnerable side she had ever seen of him and her heart ached for the man.

She shook her head, utterly confused. "I… I'm not getting you at all, Ambrose. You're scaring me, in fact."

He drew her face close to his and swallowed. She watched the lump in his long, lean neck roll with each nervous gulp and his dilated, blood-shot eyes had a wild look in them. His breath was hot against her face and smelled of some herb he'd been fed by the healers to help with the pain. He was struggling against something and the fear he felt was palpable. He spoke as if he feared being overheard or even… over_thought_. "I cannot deny your assumptions but they are just that, they are just assumptions. Is _this_ understood?"

"So… You _are_ in trouble?" Elissa was thoroughly confused but thought she was catching on.

"I CAN_NOT_ SAY. Just _drop_ it and leave me be. I have given you as much answer as I can." Resolute, he turned away and faced the wall opposite where she sat. She tried to speak with him again but failed to get more than a stubborn, "We're finished here, _Mon ce'air_. Take your leave and do not speak of this again."

Unhappy with the conversation's outcome, Elissa walked out of the room and looked into the first alcove at the young dwarven male as a healer applied a salve to his healthy bottom. He waved at her cheerfully and she smiled awkwardly in return. She retraced her earlier footsteps back to the Palace and down the halls to the King's Study where both kings were engaged in an energetic discussion about the consort's role in the kingdom. Alistair favored a case-by-case basis where the consort has anywhere from equal say in most things (as Elissa tended to have) down to very little depending on the consort herself. Harrowmont had a more traditional opinion. "You're king and that's it. Your spouse is simply your spouse and the source of your heirs," he was saying. Elissa walked in just in time to hear Alistair disagree.

"My wife is as much a queen as I am a King. Yes, my blood secures me to the throne but it is Elissa's wisdom and her knowledge of the Bannorn and our Arlings that makes her valuable as a queen. There are times when I defer to her," he said.

Harrowmont shook his head and held up his hand. "Sire, you actually defer to your consort? But that's…"

"…not as crazy as you think, your majesty. I was a noblewoman long before Alistair became heir let alone King. My upbringing was designed to prepare me to rule the mightiest Teyrnir in the kingdom and I understand the nobility well. Many were my friends or my parents' friends. Alistair has benefitted greatly from this as has Ferelden in general. So, consider it two against one? May I borrow my husband, your majesty? Just for a few minutes?" The king smiled and nodded his head. He made up some excuse and left the pair alone. Elissa sat down next to Alistair and detailed everything Ambrose had told her. Alistair listened closely, his eyebrows drawn, the expression on his youthful face seeming to age him. When she concluded, her king sighed and leaned back against the couch he was sitting on with his eyes closed.

"And the 'pot' thickens… This 'stew' is becoming less and less to my liking. Ambrose himself is the key to this mess. I wish we could just turn back and go home, Elissa…" he sighed. He knew she was not going to allow that but he could hope. But the look on her face was accepting and she laid her hand over his arm. "Do you really want to?" she asked. She actually sounded hopeful.

He shook his head, a smile tugging at his lips. "You know we can't. I won't say I'm kidding when I say I want to go home but something foul is afoot that maybe we can fix and if we can fix it, we should try. We owe that bastard that much. He all but asked you for help so… I'm not about ruin my goody two-shoes reputation by suddenly becoming a selfish ass." That statement earned him a kiss on the cheek and a promise to end the day the same way it was begun. His cheeks grew warm at the thought. "You were willing to just drop this whole thing? For me?" he asked.

She snuggled up against him and nodded. "Yeah. I do tend to take over sometimes. You should have a say, I think, in some of it."

He looped his arm around her shoulders. "_Some_ of it, perhaps. But you're the Warden Commander and when we're on the road, I happily defer to you. Just think of me as a glorified body-guard… who has veto-power over the crazier things you might want to do." She laughed at him and then rose to her feet. She hauled him up by his hands and tugged him in the direction of the door. "What? What?" he laughed.

"I'm insanely hungry again so your job, o' Body Guard, is to feed your pregnant wife," she laughingly told him. "I could go for some of that Redcliffe White..!"

To Be Continued


	13. Chapter 13

**Tainted Dreams**

**Part 13**

"**Terror in the Frostback Mountains"**

_(Very violent! You have been warned.)_

Alistair awoke with a start and a sudden intake of breath. He couldn't explain it but there was a creepy sense of something being terrifyingly wrong. He should not have been asleep for one and he had the overwhelming sensation of being surrounded for another. It felt like he was surrounded by Darkspawn. A lot of them. He started patting the furs down, searching for his wife but Elissa had disappeared. Her armor and weapons were still in a corner of the small cave they shared so if she was outside, in the frigid cold, she wore only the heavy wool padded pants and long-sleeve shirt she wore under her armor and slept in at night. He began to panic.

He rose from the nest of thick furs and crossed the few steps it took him to reach Ambrose's sleeping form. He jerked the other Warden by the shoulder and said his name several times. The Orlesian suddenly awoke, wide-eyed, and blurted, "Darkspawn!" Alistair nodded. "Yes. A lot of them and Elissa could be in danger. She's out there alone and unarmed. We _have_ to find her."

Ambrose sat up best he could in the small cave and reached for his weapons and armor. Alistair pulled it out of his hands before he could buckle it on. "No time to gear up. I'll allow boots and a coat and your weapons. That's it. We find Elissa, bring her back here and hopefully not have to kill anything." Ambrose's protests were cut off as Alistair went outside into the early morning gloom.

It was impressively cold. Though Alistair's cloak was warm, it did little to ward off the chill that permeated him to his core. He shivered. It didn't take long to find Elissa's footprints in the snow and he was dismayed to see that she was barefoot. No boots? Where was she going? He followed the trail, only half aware of Ambrose's presence behind him. Periodically, he would call out to his wife and Ambrose called her name along with his current pet nick-name for her: '_Mon c'air'_. Alistair frowned, not liking the term at all. He'd learned some Orlesian in preparation for the trip and what Ambrose was calling her, though sweet, was highly inappropriate considering the circumstances. Elissa didn't seem to mind it though she also had no clue what it meant. Alistair _did_ know what it meant but intended for her not to discover its meaning.

After some searching, they did eventually find her but what they saw froze them to their souls. "Darkspawn…dozens of them…surrounding her. We're not going to…you can't be serious about taking them all on, are you? You are insane!" Ambrose whispered in the darkness beside Ferelden's king. She was indeed surrounded by them and she stood as if in a trance. They didn't seem inclined to hurt her but they had her boxed in so that she could not escape if she tried.

Alistair nodded and hissed, "We go in, kill as many of those monsters as we can and get Elissa to wake up. Free her mind, hand her a sword and you will see why she is a Commander of the Grey in our land. I suggest we flank them. I'll attempt to get Elissa's attention, knock her down if-if I have to. She looks like she's…like she's enthralled. Maker, this is bad. Let's go."

* * *

_**Mother! Mother come! I need to see you, mother!**_

_My son… No… I cannot come to you. This could be a trick of the mind, a nightmare. I will not risk it. I cannot risk it. Forgive me, my son. I love you._

_**Mother, you have to come. Sooner or later, you will come. See, Mother? Your feet are moving. You come because you have to, because you will, because you want to see me. Is this not true?**_

_I am lying beside your father, his arms around me and he is awake, on watch. Believe me, if my feet are moving, they move through air and not through snow. I cannot come, my son. Soon, I shall wake up and when I do, I will see my belly and you will still be safely growing within. You see? I know this is merely a dream. It's like all the others, child._

_**No, Mother. Father's arms are not around you. He is asleep, Mother and he cannot protect you from the worst your mind can do. You are with me now, your son! I am your precious son! Do you not wish to be near me? To be with me?**_

_Yes but there is time yet. You are precious to me but I know that you are not yet born. Therefore, this is a trick and now I know for certain that I cannot be merely dreaming you. Someone has done something to my mind to ensnare me in these visions. Whoever is doing this, I demand you set me free! I demand it!_

_**Look there, Mother. Do you see? These are my followers! I will someday be a mighty king. I will be greater than Father, greater than even King Maric. I will rally my followers and they will love me. They will do anything I desire. I will have utter control and anything I want I shall have. Is this not something you wish for your son, my Mother?**_

_No! These soulless creatures follow you? Look at them, child. They have no minds, no spirit. It is mind and spirit that makes a follower more than a puppet. Otherwise they are no better than the Darkspawn that follow an Archdemon. There is no purpose to what they do. Loyalty, love, honor, faith… These things in a people's hearts and given to their king, this is what sets a great king from a good king and your father, despite his troubles with the Bannorn, has these things. _Your_ followers are shells. And _you_ are no king. At least, not the creature speaking in my son's name. I will see to it that only my real son, _if_ a son he is, is king! Now that I see through you, monster, set me free! SET ME FREE! FREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE…!_

_

* * *

_

Elissa was screaming, though still entranced. Alistair ran his sword through a Darkspawn as it launched itself at him. The creatures had begun to blur together, individual features becoming a blood-stained tapestry of bodies swirling and leaping with deadly choreography. His shield struck one in the face, splattering grey matter about as its head was crushed and something's entrails clung stubbornly to the haft of his sword. He was determinedly making his way to his wife, who was standing still in spite of the monsters whirling about her. He saw a Genlock Emissary standing apart from the rest of the group and he seemed to be in some kind of trance himself. It looked like it was maintaining some kind of spell. The way you end a spell is to kill the mage. Alistair narrowed his eyes and leveled the crossbow at him then launched a bolt. It struck true, right in the face above the bridge of its flat nose. The death was bloody and the spell it was casting ended, though Alistair wondered what it was casting.

Oddly, at the moment of the creature's death, Elissa moved, she even seemed to stagger forward a bit though she still didn't wake up. The Darkspawn surrounding her, however, finally seemed to see her. He saw them go from worshipful to murderous and he screamed her name. Somehow, though he would not be able to recall how he did it if later asked, he launched himself into the air and swung his sword in a sweeping arc of deadly White Steel. His feet slammed into their faces and his shield ran them into the ground. Slowly, methodically, he ploughed his way through them to his wife's side. Elissa was still asleep and she was about to get herself killed. There was only one way he could think of to awaken her.

He slammed his body into hers, rolling himself so that his back hit the ground with his arms around her, protecting her body from the fall. They ended up in a bloody snow-drift near the spot she'd been standing. Slowly, she blinked her eyes open at him, seeming not to recognize him at first. "A-Alistair? What happened? Why am I so cold? Where am I?"

He hauled her to her feet and pressed a sword into her hands. "No time to talk. We have work to do." Her eyes widened at the carnage surrounding them and the many more that were still alive. There were so many Darkspawn! Where had they all come from and why were they here? Did they have something to do with her nightmare? She raised the sword and scavenged a shield from a hand missing its body. The ground was slick with hot blood and it warmed her bare feet as she stepped through it.

Once in a kind of focused state, Elissa saw her enemies clearly. One by one, as they attempted to flank her, she swept her sword around, slicing and stabbing each creature that came into view. For Ambrose, it was like watching a terrifying ballet act. Each movement, each strike was timed and deadly, leaving few wounded and most writhing in their death throes. She left death in her wake as she slashed her way through the hearts of the fiercest Darkspawn. In the few moments she'd been alert, Elissa Theirin had already doubled the number of his own kills. So lost was he in watching her, that he did not see the huge Ogre standing above him. She screamed at him and he tried to get away but found himself picked up by the giant hand that threatened to crush him.

Elissa, standing only in her padded undershirt and pants, rushed the Ogre, leapt into the air and ran her sword through its gut. She held on with both hands, allowing her weight to draw the sword in a deep slice down in an arc across his stomach. Blood sprayed, soaking her and sticky, blue entrails spilled out onto the ground. Ambrose, however, was still unable to get free. Repeatedly, he stabbed the hand gripping him with his sword. Amazingly, the Ogre was still alive! Even trailing half of its innards on the ground, it continued to crush him, laughing at his inability to free himself. He was growing dizzy. "Help… me!" he cried.

Elissa launched herself again and this time, she clung to the open, gaping wound and thrust her sword up, stabbing it into the creature's chest from inside its own body cavity. Her sword rammed through the heart and that finally killed it. She leapt away just in time as it fell heavily to the ground, its face down in its own viscera. She walked up to Ambrose and held out her hand, panting. He stared up at her in awe. "You… I never knew how amazing you are!" he murmured.

She shrugged. "Compliment me later. There are stragglers to kill. Where is Alistair?" She looked around for her husband but he was nowhere to be seen. As she searched the battlefield, there were, in fact, only a few dying Darkspwan left. The rest had either fled or were dead. It was lighter now but heavy clouds and falling snow meant there would be a perpetual gloom for the remainder of the morning. She shivered and staggered forward, suddenly feeling weak and overcome with exhaustion.

Ambrose caught her in his arms. "No. You have endured enough. I shall find your king while you clean yourself up." She started to protest but Ambrose kept a tight hold of her, his eyes on hers. "_Mon ce'air_… You saved my life. I owe you. I will find Alistair for you. Go back to the cave, clean yourself with melted snow and rest." She nodded slowly and allowed him to help her return to the cave.

Once inside, she removed the padded shirt and pants and then scrubbed the blood away with snow melted in the heat of the cave. Her hair would have to wait for the next pond or lake to wash but at least the blood and gore would be off her body. She wrapped her naked form in the warmth of a thick furred blanket and waited for Ambrose to return. It was some time later but he did eventually come back. She heard him calling out her name.

Elissa wrapped herself tightly in a blanket and stepped outside into the blustery, snowy air. It was light now. Ambrose came, soaking wet and carrying Alistair. Neither man had donned his armor, thus leaving both dressed in similar fashion to her. Their clothes were soaked through and she could tell her husband's skin was pale, almost blue in fact. He wasn't moving at all. She rushed forward, weeping as Ambrose carried him to the small cave. "What happened? Is he alive?" she screamed.

Ambrose ducked down and carefully, gently, pushed Alistair into the cave. He tried not to look at her as she dropped the blanket she was wearing to remove Alistair's clothing. She was completely nude and a sight for his sad eyes. He felt something twist inside of him. "He is…alive. Barely. I had to breathe for him, though. He is suffering from cold. He must have followed another Ogre and got tossed onto a frozen lake during the fight. It was not far from here. The ice had cracked and he was in the water, clinging to an ice-patch when I found him. I tried to reach him without going swimming but he went under so I had to go in. I would never have found him if I hadn't spotted the ogre… What are you planning?" She sat up, revealing her body to him in its fullest, most feminine glory. The cold air had left her breasts hard and nipples firm. He stared.

"Take off your clothes. All of them. You're soaked! Then get into the furs with me and Alistair. Since he needs to warm up fastest, he gets the middle I am sorry to say. He'll hate me for it later but…"

"You are insane! I refuse to lie naked with a man. I would lie naked with you but that is because I am a man and you are a beautiful woman but I refuse to lie with a naked man." He shivered, his arms crossed as he looked pointedly into Elissa's teal eyes.

She dropped her hands upon her swollen belly and cocked her head to one side, her eyes on him. "You want to help me save my husband? Good! But you will do it _my way_. He needs body heat and so do you. Your lips are blue, Ambrose. You'll die of hypothermia if we don't do this quickly."

"But why naked? Surely there is a change of clothes in the packs?"

She sighed and turned around, gifting Ambrose with a fine view of her bottom. She was stretching Alistair out on his side and layered the furs for maximum warmth, including those Ambrose had been using. "Body heat. Tactile contact. Skin to skin. It is the best way. Now, as a Commander of the Grey, I am pulling rank: STRIP."

Ambrose grumbled and removed his clothes piece by piece. "I shall seek revenge, _Mon ce'air_… I swear it! This is humiliating. One woman, two men and it is the _men_ who must touch… At least he is attractive. Were I of the type to desire men, I would find him desirable but I am not so instead I am…"

She glared at him and started to say something but was caught short. He was covered in scars. They looked like lash-marks! His back, chest and arms were riddled with a network of white lines that contrasted with his warm-hued skin. "Ambrose…! How did you get those scars?" she asked.

He sighed. "A tale to tell, this is what you wish? Perhaps I am disinclined to tell it?" He slipped carefully along Alistair's back tried to figure out what to do with his arms. He wrapped them around Alistair's chest and felt Elissa's nipples against his hand. He flinched, jerking back. "Dah! Sorry."

She smiled and reached for one of his hands, laying it along her husband's ribcage. "Don't worry about it. This is all just a strange, awkward situation. If something touches something during the course of our sleep, I won't hold it against you. You will be rewarded for helping me save Alistair's life. Assuming he lives… Oh, Ambrose, what if he dies? What will I do?" she sobbed into Alistair's neck. Ambrose, unsure what to say or do, reached around Ferelden's king and squeezed him between he and Elissa as he did his best to hold her. He marveled at the softness of her smooth skin.

He touched his head to hers and held her tightly as best he could with the comatose king in between them. "He will live, Mon ce'air… I swear it. And after all of this, should he die, I will go to the fade and drag him back myself if it makes you happy. I mean it. I swear…it"

When she didn't reply, Ambrose peered over Alistair's prone form and saw that Elissa had fallen into an exhausted slumber. Had she heard what he said? He wondered if she knew how much he was coming to care for her. How determined he was to see her taken care of and happy. How much he now regretted the task at hand, the thing he had to do…

To be continued


	14. Chapter 14

**Tainted Dreams**

**Part 14**

**Death. Love. Trust.**

_(More brutality. There is lightness and humor but you are warned that this chapter is very sad and fairly violent.)_

Two days after Elissa's nightmare, they were at last descending toward the Orlesian side of the Pass. Elissa's male companions, having awoken awkwardly the morning before, were avoiding speaking, touching or even looking at one-another. She had laughed at first but now it was getting very old. She had expected it to last only a few hours at most. Then it lasted for a day. Through this morning it continued still and she found herself grating her teeth with irritation. Finally, when Alistair told Elissa to ask Ambrose where the next inhabited village was, she planted her feet in the knee-deep snow and stopped. "Okay. That is enough. I have had it with both of you!"

Alistair blinked his eyes innocently at her and Ambrose sighed audibly. "Elissa, he was naked, pressed against me. And he seemed to be, you know, _enjoying_ it!"

Ambrose bristled and pointed his finger at the blond king. "Enjoying it? Not on your life! I prefer women, thank you very much, and I'd have preferred to have Elissa to press against (no offense, _Mon Ce'aire_), but I was ordered to put you, Alistair, in the middle instead! You almost died, you know."

Alistair stood before Ambrose, eyes wide and he was practically snarling. "I'd rather have faced death than awakened with, well, the way you were yesterday morning. Your _sword_, as such, was _unsheathed_ and-and pressed against my thigh. My _upper_ thigh. Near my as-"

"It is a male-thing! Men wake up that way sometimes in the morning and it is a thing you cannot help. Doubtless you awoke with _your_ 'sword' drawn…"

Alistair drew himself up and hauled Elissa's shoulders under his arm. She glared up at him, balking at his possessiveness. "I was up against this beautiful woman so of course I was ready to 'do battle' as it were but then I _felt_ you. Totally ruined it for me. See, it would have been far easier to accept if you had had that problem and been where I was instead."

"If I had been pressed up against _her_…" Ambrose started to say.

"…you'd have been dead but I completely would have understood why. But against _me_… That's just… That's just not right. That is _so_ not the way I expected to wake up." Alistair shuddered and wrung his hands in quivering disgust and Elissa sighed.

She shrugged out of Alistair's embrace and pulled her light-weight furred cloak up over her head then moved on ahead of them. New snow quickly dusted her footprints as she pushed on. "Both of you need to just grow up and thank me for saving both your tails. Oh and get over yourselves while you're at it. I refuse to be drawn into the middle of this. Not unless you each plan to give me some _pleasure_ out of it," she muttered at them crossly.

The two men stopped and stared at each other as it dawned on them what she meant. Alistair knew she was only teasing but Ambrose blushed brightly under his tan and short whiskers. Her husband narrowed his eyes as he watched Ambrose closely. The way the man was acting around her plus the pet name had him concerned. Was it possible the Orlesian was starting to fall for her? Alistair tried to be sympathetic. He understood why, since he had fallen for her himself while her companion. She was the complete package, after all; smarts, beauty, a sense of humor and she was kick-ass with a sword. He hoped the fool wouldn't try anything. He was just starting to like him and he would hate to have to hurt him.

The snow was falling heavily but in spite of the cold, they could see the outline of several structures in the distance. Elissa hurried her footsteps. A warm bed and a fire beckoned to her with the appeal of a man drawn to the seductive power of a desire demon. Ambrose grabbed her arm. "What? It's a village! It's been almost 3 days since we left Orzammar and I want to get out of the snow."

"It's a mining settlement, not a village, city or town. There is no pub and no Inn. It's run by a woman who eats nails for breakfast and spits lava at anyone who pisses her off."

Alistair chuckled as Ambrose spoke. His accent caused "pisses" to sound more like "_peeces_". Something about it was highly amusing to Ferelden's youthful king. He took Elissa's gauntleted hand cheerfully and the pair pushed forward. "Sounds like my kind of woman-er-I mean place! Let's go. I'm sure they'll have a fire we can curl up in front of. I'll even offer to cook!"

Elissa looked up at him with mock horror. "Please not the Lothering Legume Surprise… Ugh."

Ambrose looked confused. "What is wrong with it?"

"The surprise…" Elissa murmured darkly.

"…is that there are no Legumes," Alistair finished for her cheerfully.

"Uhh…"

"Whatever you do, do not let this man near a cook-pot. If you boys actually _like_ seeing the contents of my stomach, fine, let him cook. Otherwise…" As Elissa started to add to what she was saying, someone staggered from the haze of falling snow and fell at her feet. He grabbed her ankle, sobbing. She dropped to her knees and touched him but the moment she did, the Taint within her tingled with recognition. "He's covered in Darkspawn blood along with his own. He may have been infected. What's happening?" she asked the man in a gentle voice.

He looked up at her with pleading eyes. "They came from the mountains, practically a horde of them! Magic-users and Alphas like we've never seen before. Help us fight them off! I beg you!"

Elissa nodded and started patching the man's wounds with the contents of her medical kit. "We'll help you. I swear it. Is your vil-ah-settlement safe?"

"I don't know. Parts of it, maybe. Ronni-er-Veronica put the girls and, ah, the boys in a cellar along with the aged. That would be the safest place."

Ambrose nodded. "Ronni is the woman I mentioned. She also runs the brothel. That would be the only Inn or Tavern to speak of. Buy a night with a partner and keep the room. Buy a beer for one of the employees, get one for yourself. It's a bartering system of sorts."

Elissa frowned and looked back down at the man. He was extremely dirty. "Why didn't you just go into the cellar with the other non-fighters?"

The miner looked sheepish as he gazed up at the other two men. "I, ah, didn't want to seem like a, you know, a coward."

"So you…ran. Right. Great way to _not_ look like a coward," Alistair said dryly.

Ambrose helped the man to his feet and looked off in the direction of the settlement. "Ronni fed me when I came through here on my way to Ferelden. It would be bad manners not to help them. Especially since the Orlesian border is so near. It's just past the settlement in fact." He turned to the miner. "Ser, you have two choices. Stay out here and freeze, or follow us back to the settlement. Either way, we are going in to help as you have asked." Elissa nodded and Alistair stepped in behind Ambrose. The three of them started to walk away and miner jumped, ran after them and did his best to keep up.

When they arrived, the snow was awash in blood and gore. Miner's tools like shovels and pick-axes of varying types could be brutal instruments of death when used in that manner. The miners, many of them humans and dwarves, swung their make-shift weapons with strength and courage, if lacking in grace. Elissa and Alistair leapt into the fray without hesitation while Ambrose escorted the injured miner to the only real building in the settlement. Others, mostly elves, soft women and elderly servants were going inside as well. Then, he withdrew his swords and danced through the twisted bodies that lunged and reached for him. Swords clashed and bit into unprotected flesh, parting it and spraying blood onto the fresh snow. These Darkspawn were wicked, intelligent beings whose skill was greater than most. It was frightening how good they were.

At one point, Ambrose was knocked off his feet by a determined foe. Alistair ran it through with his glowing sword and helped the Orlesian to his feet. "You all right?" he asked. Ambrose smiled and nodded. The two men shared a moment of appreciation for one another before turning back to the bloody scene before them.

It was horrific. The mining camp had lost many. The dead and wounded littered the snow, many torn asunder. The unusual slurry machine near its heart had been damaged, perhaps beyond repair and the few fighters that remained standing were blood-soaked and exhausted. Elissa finished off a magic user who had begun to cast a spell. It had been affecting her in a bad way, and almost made her pass out. Strangely, the Darkspawn seemed to leave her alone, targeting others instead. That meant she was able to kill many of them, which was fine by her.

Eventually, the battle was over. The three of them gathered together, panting and then began the arduous and heartbreaking task of forming a triage of sorts so that those who could be saved were and those who would die regardless were sent to the Maker's side as swiftly and painlessly as possible. Alistair wept as he ended one life after another. One in particular was a young man, perhaps fourteen or so. He was an elf and had wielded his pick-axe with a fury Alistair was proud of. If the lad's entrails had, in fact, been inside his body, Ferelden's King might have tried to save him but it was too late. "S-ser? Did-did I do well? Did I kill 'em?" the boy asked softly. Alistair covered his hands with his as he wept and nodded. "I lied, you know. They was going to put me inna orphanage cuz my parents were kilt by those thet made 'em work. They ain't want me, see. So's I lied and tol'em I was sixteen so's I could head out and do some real work. I been doin' this since I was thirteen! I'm almost sixteen this year. I'as t'only elf on the pick-line, inside the mines. Guess they'll hafta find a replacement… An' tell Elianne tha' I'da made 'er a respectable lady if I'd lived. Teller… Teller I loved 'er an all that. One las thing… Ser, kin you make sure… Make sure they honor me proper? I worked hard an'… 'twold be a shame if they… If they…"

Alistair nodded, choked back a sob and held the boy closely. This child had been loved once and reminded him of the son he would someday have. His heart was shattered even as he swore that the boy's name would be remembered. "Carrin," the boy said softly. "I beg ye, end it swift. Else…"

Alistair withdrew his dagger and said a prayer, one of the few he could recall saying during his life, as drew it across the artery in the child's neck. He held the boy tightly as his life-blood spread across Alistair's armor and the ground beneath him. Carrin was dead within moments and died with a thankful exhalation of breath.

Alistair felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up into Ambrose's emotion-shadowed eyes. "The young ones… They're the hardest to let go of. I've done this a time or two before and it never gets easy. Come on. Scavengers and wolves will lay claim to these corpses if we don't burn 'em first. We saved a great many today, Alistair. Keep that in mind."

Alistair nodded and slowly rose to his feet, leaving boy where he'd found him. "His name was Carrin. We have to remember him. Send him off with his name. He fought strong and hard."

"Aye. That we will, Alistair. I swear it. Let's finish the hard stuff first and then we can remember…"

Those miners that could walk or even just stand rose quickly to help the Grey Wardens with the painful task of naming and sorting the dead. The ladies and young men from the brothel were best at naming them because they had seen them clean more than the other miners. It was obvious from some of the workers' expressions that emotional bonds that had been forged were now coming back to haunt them. One young lady broke down in shrieking sobs as she beheld Carrin's mutilated body. Alistair walked up to her.

"Elianne? I'm… Alistair. Carrin died in my arms. I'm sorry for your loss. I guess he meant to propose marriage to you…"

"Marriage? I think not. Carrin was my brother, Ser. Brother by half, perhaps, but we were close as blood could make us. We had a dream of leaving this place. We could have left at any time but money was tight and this was reliable work. Thank you for looking out for him. You do Ferelden's throne proud, King Alistair."

He stared after her as she laid her brother's body on the funeral pyre they had created in the center of the settlement. How had she known? Wasn't Alistair a common enough name? She looked human too. Was she half-human? Was that possible?

Elissa touched his arm as he watched flames tear through the bodies piled high upon the pyre. The stench of burning flesh was pervasive and burned his nose and throat as watched the flames reach into the cloudy sky. Ash hung thick and heavy in the grey smoke rising from the deadly tongues of golden light. Tears formed damp trails of sorrow down his fire-lit cheeks. "We've been summoned by the mistress of this place. Are you going to be okay?"

"It's times like these when I'm glad my most difficult job is sorting out issues within the Bannorn. Let's go. I can't watch this any longer." He pulled her into his arms and held her tightly, as tightly as he could, considering the armor separating them. "I love you…" he breathed into her hair. "When this is over, I'm taking you off to someplace wonderful and quiet where we can just escape from all this death." Elissa kissed him in return and sank happily into his embrace. They walked silently into the big house and gazed warily at the woman who ran the settlement.

She was short, plump and middle-aged. Her eyes were green, like new leaves and her skin was a bright pale shade. "This is Ronni, the woman who runs the mining operation here. We have been invited to stay overnight as her guests and then we are charged to take a message to Lydes, which is the next township," Ambrose was saying as they entered. He rose from the couch he was sitting on and gestured for Elissa and Alistair to sit. "_Mon Ce'aire_?" Thankfully, the two sat quietly and looked up at the woman. She gestured to a young man and he disappeared.

"You have my thanks, Grey Wardens. We are accustomed to periodic attacks by these beasts. Our location up here in the mountains makes us targets, almost as tantalizing as the Dwarves in their underground realm. But this… This is unprecedented." She rose from her perch on the arm of a chair and didn't as much walk but rather seemed to drift in their direction. "This is by far the worst attack I have yet seen in my many years here, running this operation. It seems to have something to do with you, dear lady."

Elissa paled as she looked up at the portly Orlesian woman. Her bejeweled hands were clasped before her, a smile tugging at the corners of her perfect mouth. Really, Ronni was quite beautiful, even with added pounds and her age. "It's not that I am blaming you for the attack but do forgive me if I listen to my reports. The Darkspawn evidently had little desire to harm you, Madam. I suppose this is not a terrible thing. You compensated well for their hesitation. However, I think that if they are drawn to you, your stay here should be as brief as possible. That leads me to a most unprecedented offer. I shall grant you a full day to recover. That is to say that you will have the night, the whole of tomorrow and some hours the day after to rest and recover. You may leave before then, of course, but you will have at least that long. Also, I shall grant you unfettered access to my hosts and hostesses for whatever your desire may be. We owe you that much for saving this operation."

One young man wearing a simple kilt in colorful silk and little else on his tan skin approached them with a smile. He bowed deeply. "I am T'herau and I have been trained in Antiva in the fine arts of the masseuse. Perhaps my Lady and my Lord might wish to allow my hands to relax them as they have never been?"

Elissa brightened considerably and Alistair blanched. "I can do that! I can massage people!" he stammered. Elissa tossed back her head and laughed before kissing his cheek. She took the young man's hand and allowed him to guide her to the stair. "My love, Zevran taught you those skills and they were for the purpose of his being allowed to touch you by way of teaching you how to pleasure me. Don't look at me like that. You enjoyed it and you know it. This man likely is much better skilled than he was. Well? Coming?"

He sighed. _Yes, my love. Whatever you desire, my love_. Alistair looked at Ambrose and noted the distant look on the other Grey Warden's thin face. He looked drawn and sad. "Uh… Yeah. Go on ahead without me. I'll be up shortly." Elissa followed the masseuse up the stair with a cheerful wave behind her as Alistair rose to his feet.

He walked over where Ambrose leaned up against the wall. "You okay?" he asked.

The Orlesian shrugged and looked at Alistair ruefully with a partial smile. "I have been better. There is much going on that I cannot begin to explain to you so… Inside it lives and threatens to drive me mad."

"Like your feelings for Elissa?" Alistair said softly.

Ambrose looked startled as he stared at Alistair with wide eyes. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Actually, you do and so do I. You are in love with my wife, Ambrose. It's obvious to me though Elissa, thankfully, is blind to it because she views you with as much affection as she views anyone she considers 'just' a friend. But me… I know better. I know what '_Mon Ce'aire_' means, the Fereldan translation of it, anyway."

Ambrose turned away from him angrily. He waved his hand dismissively and hugged the wall with his body. "It is a term of endearment or affection. Nothing more. If it displeases you, I shall quit."

Alistair shook his head. "No. You will continue using it because she likes it. She thinks it's nice. Personally, I should be mad at you for having feelings for her but, actually, it's kind of a relief. You indicated that we will have to part company at some point. I will have to see Empress Celene and you and Elissa will travel- wherever you need to travel. With you in love with her, I am assured that you won't allow anything bad to befall my wife. I also know that you're not crazy enough to try anything stupid with her. You won't like what she'll do to you if you get _too_ bold."

Ambrose sagged against the wall, his back to Alistair and his body showing his defeat. "My feelings are my own, Alistair. You cannot use them against me to force me to promise her safety. Where we go, I can_not_ promise what I am unsure of, regardless of how I feel. I do…care for her more than I thought possible and that bothers me a great deal. It puts me in a terribly awkward situation. You see, I may have to make…decisions that could complicate matters. I wish I didn't feel for her, _Mon ve'erte_."

Alistair came around to stand before him so that their eyes could meet. He placed his hands on Ambrose's shoulders and smiled up at the taller man. "You see? You called me 'my friend'. That's a big step, you know. I trust you. I trust that you will keep her safe, that your love for her will ensure her survival. I have faith in you."

Ambrose pushed him aside gently and headed for the door. "You may come to rue that trust_, Mon ve'erte_. I need some time alone to collect my thoughts. Forgive me, my friend." He opened the heavy wooden door and headed out into the thick snow. Alistair grunted and shook his head. At least they understood one other. Sort of, anyway. Ambrose was still an enigma to him.

He ran a hand through his short, golden hair and, smiling nervously, his eyes went up the stairs to the door that waited for him and the woman he'd left alone with another man entirely. She would be naked, lying on a bed and the young "professional companion" or "whore" was likely touching her… His imagination exploded with ideas about just where the young man would be touching her. He bolted up the stairs as fast as he could and swiftly joined her.

He later found that he need not have been so worried. It was far more than he'd bargained for and far more pleasurable than he ever imagined…

To be continued


	15. Chapter 15

**Tainted Dreams**

**Part 15**

**The Mining Settlement of Veronica De'Voutier**

Elissa awoke slowly, happily and lifted her arms over head in a broad stretch. There was a mouth gently pleasuring her breast while a hand was exploring her below her protruding belly. She met the eyes of her grinning husband and smiled sleepily in return. It was he whose hand was teasing her between her thighs. The young man who had started off as her masseuse was sucking on one of her nipples, his hand running along the length of her pregnant body. She sighed contentedly and murmured, "Is this a dream? Do I really have two naked men in my bed pleasuring my body? And you're not threatening the other with your sword?"

Alistair chuckled and lowered his mouth to hers in a long, wet, sensuous kiss that left her with a shiver. "He earns coin for this so I'm not feeling very threatened right now. Watching him make love to you has actually been something of a turn-on for me. And he's taught me far more than I ever learned from Zev. It's allowed me to focus on pleasuring you more fully while he deals with the boring, grinding parts of it. Sex is so complicated, you know? By the way, you slept like a baby, sandwiched as you were between us. We both woke up… ah… ready to play, if you know what I mean. If you're up for it, there's something I want to try this morning, T'herau's suggestion. I think you'll like it."

She reached up with both hands and pulled Alistair's mouth firmly onto hers, sucking hard on his tongue and lips. "You started this. Whatever you both want to do, I don't care, as long as you are both touching me! Maker's Breath, but last night was amazing!" Alistair laughed, partly at himself because never in his wildest dreams had he ever considered doing anything like what he'd done last or what he was about to do now. Grinning, he whispered into Elissa's ear exactly what he was about to do to her and she flushed with pleasure.

* * *

It was late in the morning when they finally left the room and headed downstairs. They found Ambrose in the great-room, seated on a couch with a young woman stretched across his lap. They were sitting, forehead to forehead, talking softly in the foreign Orlesian tongue to one another. The royal pair tried to slip past without disturbing Ambrose and his petite, elfin companion but failed as he spotted them. "You two, er, slept in late. How was it?" _Is Ambrose teasing me?_ Alistair wondered as he felt himself slowly growing scarlet. "The, ahem, _massage_ I mean? Was he big? I mean, was he _talented_? With his hands, I mean?" _Okay_, Alistair decided darkly, _the Orlesian dies_.

Elissa smiled sweetly and kissed Ambrose's forehead. "The massage was just what I needed. My back was killing me after that fight and I fell _right_ to sleep." She was lying! Maker, he loved that woman… "Alistair also got a massage but his wasn't nearly as wonderful as mine. I was _very_ lenient about where and what T'herau massaged. My husband was much more conservative. And I take it you didn't get much sleep," she said, appraising the young woman with an arched eyebrow.

Ambrose sighed and said something flowery in his richly accented Orlesian to the young woman and, very reluctantly, she removed himself from his lap. She walked away after casting a foul look over her narrow shoulder. Alistair realized for the first time that what he thought was a tight-fitting bodice was, in fact, intricate tattoo-work on her bare breasts, back and shoulders. Her nipples had remained ink-free; hiding amid the colored flowers, leaves and swirls that otherwise covered her from the ribs up. "For about ten years or so, my wife and I have not been…intimate with one another. I have been given permission to find my pleasure as necessary as a result."

Elissa blinked at him and convulsively grabbed Alistair's hand. "You're in a loveless marriage? But I thought…?"

Ambrose chuckled and shook his head. "No no. Not loveless at all. We love each other very much. It's just that sex does nothing for her anymore. It's sad really. We made our children and then she stopped desiring the act itself. I am both a Grey Warden and a man so, naturally, I was forced to either get her 'fixed', find a new wife or get permission to please myself in other ways. The first option we tried but failed. The second option wasn't going to happen. Third was her idea, not mine."

Ambrose watched the blood drain from Alistair's face and smiled as he realized what he'd just said. Elissa caught on as well and promptly propped herself up onto her toes and kissed her husband sweetly. "Sorry, Your Majesty. You won't _get off_ that easily. Or maybe you will? I too am a Grey Warden and easily aroused. No baby is going to keep me from having your delicious body against me whenever I desire it. Got me?" He nodded thankfully and actually seemed to deflate as Elissa walked away from him. "I'm starving! Is there anything to eat in here?"

Another young woman appeared at that moment and flashed a smile at Alistair. He noted that her hair had been dyed purple to match the paint on her skin. She was completely naked save for a bit of sheer silk draped across her hips. "Come this way. The kitchen is reserved only for honored guests and Veronica's _employees_. Otherwise, the rest of the settlement has to eat in the crew mess facility. It was left standing in the attack, remarkably. The cook left out an assortment of breakfast items including glazed eggs, ham, sausage, pastries and seasonal fruit. Grapes and melon, I think."

They went to the small kitchen to eat and Elissa set upon the Glazed Eggs with gusto until she recognized the sauce that had been poured over them. It was utterly delicious and instantly sent her into a fit of heaves. She ran for the nearest trash bin and threw up. Alistair tried not to laugh as he asked Ambrose if there were any other eggs, un-glazed. Nodding, Ambrose turned to the stove and started breaking out a pan and three eggs.

She returned as Alistair explained to Ambrose, "…only that kind of sauce on the eggs and she loves them that way! Very frustrating for her. It's a by-product of the pregnancy, I guess. She has the strangest cravings, too! Once, she asked me to go to the larder for pickles and a jar of syrup. She poured the syrup over the pickles and tore into them like they were the most delicious things she'd ever eaten. You should have seen her face! Crazy."

She immediately turned green again. "Ugh. The pickles and syrup! What was I thinking…! Crap… I hate you, Alistair." She bolted back to the receptacle and threw up yet again. This time he couldn't hold back the laughter. Ambrose gazed at her sympathetically and held up her plate for her. "Eggs sans sauce, Madam, as you require." She gazed at it in shocked silence as she took it.

"You…cook?" she asked. He shrugged. "I am no Orlesian Chef, _Mon_ _Ce'aire_, but I know my way around a stove. I have added a bit of seasoning to them so they are not bland. They are semi-soft, not runny but perfectly smooth and creamy within. Do you approve?" She tried a bite and nodded vigorously. Alistair mouthed, "Show-off" at him as Ambrose cleaned up his dirty pans. He was ignored.

With breakfast concluded, the three Grey Wardens headed to the door of the house. Outside, a massive clean-up was taking place. For as many miners that died, there was a large number of support staff that had remained hidden during the attack. They were now repairing those things that needed fixing and clearing anything that littered the ground. Much of it had been alive until the day before. It was interesting to watch because even some of the brothel's employees were out in the snow doing the same jobs as everyone else. It was an impressive sight.

Alistair heard Veronica barking terse commands to her workers, especially the two dwarves trying to fix the sorting device. She was standing on the short porch of the house, leaning against the rail. "Can it be repaired?" she asked. The fatter, older of the two looked it over carefully. "Aye. Broke at the seams, looks like. Bit of effort and some sealer aughta get it right back in shape. The pump is the big concern. It's drawing air from somewhere and we can't see where it's coming from. It won't pump water unless we can clear the air from the line. No worries, though. We'll have it up and running before lunch."

"Good. We need to get into the mines before it gets late and get some grinding done. Sweet Maker above. I have one of the most advanced operations in the Frostbacks and the most technical problems as well. You gotta love enclosed plumbing systems. Good morning!"

The two smiled as the approached her. "Good morning!" Elissa said cheerfully.

Veronica turned to them. She was wearing a long robe made of multiple animal furs and her hair, golden in the warmth of the house, was actually quite brilliantly white. It framed her face like a cloud of wind-blown spider-silk as the cold breeze picked up. Her pert nose was red, as were her cheeks. Her eyes were like gleaming emeralds. "I see you're no worse for wear, considering how long you two held onto my favorite of the boys." The woman's accent was rich but only slightly Orlesian. She had the look and bearing of a noble-woman but seemed more laid back, more relaxed.

Elissa laughed and looked around bustling settlement with interest. "He's good with his hands," she murmured with a sly smile at the madam. "So, what is all of this?"

The plump woman leaned against the railing and gestured with her hand to various points of interest as she spoke. "Over there is the barracks. That is where the miners and support staff sleep. It's very cozy with a common room, recreation room and a huge fireplace. Everyone has a cubical containing bit of space with storage and a bed. We only have a hand of female miners so they occupy a small area of the barracks near the back. Not really private but the boys leave them alone. Well, unless they don't _want_ to be left alone. I walked in on an orgy once. The crew mess hall is there as well. It runs practically all the time and the miners have access to it even when the cooks are taking a break. The miners are paid monthly, the most in the business. _I_ offer only but _one_ form of entertainment and _we _snare travelers going to and from Orlais so we can afford to provide some extra creature-comforts for the miners.

"Over there, those forges are for the isolation of the various ores we find. Currently, there are three though I plan to build two more. Our Smiths are highly adept at separating metals from one another and they take the raw ore and either mix it with other metals to form more complex compounds, like steel and bronze, or they are smelted into bars for shipment and eventual sale. Over there we have the pride and joy of my facility; the _sorter_.

"The miners don't have to leave the mine unless they wish to. At frequent intervals, a _runner_ will collect the ore and gems in a cart and wheel it to the chute in the mountain-side. The blend of rocks, ore and gems is flushed through with water poured down the shaft and it falls onto the sorting rig. Water is then pumped from the top, creating 'mud' or _slurry_, which gets pushed further down to the sorters. The finest particles, the _sand_, get removed through the wire mesh it travels over, leaving the bigger bits behind. _Sorters_ look carefully at each rock, each tiny pebble and determine what has value and what is useless. Ores are separated by type in buckets as are gems. Particularly fine pieces get special treatment.

"The water falls through the mesh and into the underlying track to be returned to the pump and recycled. This keeps it moving and thus does not allow it to freeze. We don't operate when the sorter is frozen because that's a good indicator that it's simply too cold for us to function. I treat my workers as well as they treat me. They do what they are able to do and they get paid better than most and the benefits are impressive! Elves, thanks to their better eyes and hands, generally do the sorting. Dwarves maintain the sorter and mind the forges and humans and dwarves alike work the mines. I've only had a couple of elves ever work the mines because they do tend to be smaller and weaker. But everyone does what they feel they can do. They're all equals in my eyes. I won't limit them."

"It's an ingenious system, for sure," Alistair remarked as her looked around. The weather had turned in their favor and he was itching to move on. "We appreciate your hospitality but I think we need to push onward while the weather is holding. What do you need from us?"

Veronica smiled and headed back inside the house. She waited for them to enter before she closed the door behind them. "That fight cost me a lot of my strongest people. We're not fighters, we're miners and killing Darkspawn is only a part-time job. I need to hire new staff if this operation is to flourish and as we are coming into the cold months, I feel it would be wise to get staffed back up so that we can train while we have the opportunity."

Elissa shivered inside her fur cloak and pressed herself against Alistair's armored body. "This isn't cold?" she asked. The other woman laughed and approached a desk near the door. "Cold, my darling? Far from it. The water still flows and we can function. Cold is when the running water petrifies where it drops and fingers and toes turn blue in a manner of seconds. Winter is harsh up here, along the pass. Many go to Lydes during the winter to wait it out then return to the mountains when it warms up again. That's where I want you to go. Put up some signs and inform the bartenders and innkeepers that Veronica's hiring again. My contact there is a good place to as well. Even go to the chantry, if you like. Though… since I don't maintain a chanter here, I try to discourage the devout from applying. Oh and while you're chatting with my contact, I have a list of the dead you need to give him. He'll inform the families."

They watched as Veronica came around to them, her carefully designed "Help Wanted" signs in hand. "What about Halamshiral?" Elissa asked. "I thought that was a city? It's marked as one on my map."

"It's a crumbling reminder of the Chantry's foolishness when dealing with people they don't understand. It was destroyed a long time ago and abandoned by the Dalish Elves. Though it is abandoned, the elves are highly protective of it and won't let a damned soul near the place. If you camp there, you'll wake up as a pin-cushion," Veronica remarked softly. "Go the extra half-day's journey and head straight to Lydes. All you'll find in Halamshiral are a few ghosts and what might have been some fine architecture at one point."

Ambrose accepted the fliers with a nod and reached for his pack. "Then we leave?" he asked eagerly.

"Let's go!" Alistair said cheerfully and he picked up his own heavy pack and threw it over his shoulder. He came close to Veronica and gave her a sweet kiss on the cheek. "Thank you for all you've done for us."

The woman smirked. "I loaded you up with travel rations and a good soup-base. Use them well, use them wise. Good luck to you all."

They left the mining camp looking much more like it always looked. As they were heading back out into the snowy pass, Alistair could have sworn he heard one of the dwarves cry, "Eureka! Water flows again!" and Veronica's testy reply, "'Bout damn time! Now get to work, you laggards!" followed by laughter. If he ever needed a job working the mountain's surface, here would be a fine place to get one.

To be Continued…

_Next: Into the "City of Ghosts and Shadows"_


	16. Chapter 16

**Tainted Dreams **

**Part 16**

_**Author's note: **="Meer-ih-shahn" for a later pronunciation. Look for the **. I will have to include a dictionary soon as I have to start making up a lot of Orlesian words that don't exist yet. If anyone knows any Orlesian, feel free to suggest it or correct me. For now, it's all upstairs in my head. Thanks. **_

_Contest: __**Oh, and there's an "Easter Egg" in here roughly referencing my workplace. If anyone can guess what it is, even closely, they get to give me a creative sub-plot-point that I will HAVE to use! As long as it fits in the story. Good luck.**_

_**

* * *

**_

**Welcome to Orlais! Land of the Poor. Land of the Rich. Neither twixt the two shall be.**

"Ahhh! Smell that air! Feel that breeze! Isn't Orlais beautiful? Isn't it wonderful? And the people! Ah! But they are fascinating as well, do you not agree?" Ambrose was saying as he shed his cloak and practically danced through a field of waist-high grass. Alistair rolled his eyes and gripped Elissa's hand.

This was as care-free and happy as they had ever seen him and it was better than his dark, brooding alter-ego. However, it was very clear to Elissa and Alistair that he was doing one thing: "You're gloating again. Stop it. Besides, it happened three days ago and you _had_ your gloating time already," Elissa told him under her breath.

He blinked innocently at her. "_Mei_? Gloat? Nooo! I would never!"

"Yes, we needed your help getting past the border patrol-" Alistair began.

"-because he didn't buy the Grey Warden angle-" Elissa added.

"-and being the king and queen-consort didn't fool him either- Alistair continued.

-but that you would be able to talk you way past that stupid Chevallyer never occurred to us," Elissa finished.

"Che-vally-EY," Ambrose corrected slowly.

"What? It's spelled 'Che-vally-eer'," Elissa teased. He deserved it. Badly.

"_Non, non_. _Chevalier_! Do not forget it. The next city is-"

"How were you able to talk to him? He acted like he knew you," Alistair interrupted him softly. Ambrose looked off in the distance, his eyes vacant, even sad. "I do not want to say, _Mon ve'erte_."

"Come on, Ambrose. The truth. How did you become one of us?" Alistair prodded.

Ambrose sighed and turned to look back at them. On his face was an expression of anguish so bitter that it stung the soul. His long, black hair had come loose from its bindings in the wind, whipping it in tendrils about a face that seemed to have aged considerably in that moment. "I _was_ Chevalier. Once. Many years ago. Does that satisfy? Or do you wish to dredge forth more bad memories, _Mon ve'erte_?"

Alistair took a step forward, unsure what to say. He looked into the man's sad, blue eyes and tried to fathom what was going on behind them. In his youth, Ambrose might have once been handsome. But now, he looked worn out, thin and weary. The lines on his face seemed deeper, the scars on his soul more clearly etched in white. His tan skin looked sallow and grey. The fact that he preferred armors in shades of black and grey only intensified the sense of wrongness about him. He always seemed to be carrying some terrible burden that he couldn't, or wouldn't shake. If he wasn't careful, it would kill him. "We would… like to believe that we are your friends and we are curious about you. That's all. You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."

Ambrose's features softened slightly and his full lips turned up in a slight smile. "I am not ready to embrace your kind of friendship where all things are shared. My past is painful. I was not a willing addition to the ranks of the Grey Wardens, you see."

The autumn air, which had been chilly before, seemed to warm a bit at that honest confession from him. His companions cheered inside. "You were conscripted, like I was! I was brought into the Wardens just days away from taking my final vows. I tell you, becoming a devoted warrior for the Maker was not my idea of a happy life. There was literally no way out for me. Duncan came along and pissed off everyone by choosing _me_ over all the Templars he watched that day. If I were Leliana, I'd be tempted to say that the Maker Himself sent Duncan to me. If he hadn't come, hadn't chosen me… It would have been a fate worse than death," Alistair told him softly.

The tall, thin Grey Warden turned around and was hiking up the next hill as he spoke over his shoulder, "Really? Worse than death, you say? There is no fate worse than death save death itself and it was _from death _that _I_ was saved." He crested the hill out of earshot, clearly ending the conversation. He was melancholy again and Alistair believed he had only himself to blame. Elissa hugged him and they walked together, slowly savoring the vista around them.

From the pass' snowy end, they had entered a land in full autumn bloom. There were trees decorated in amber and crimson along the road, which was remarkably well-maintained for its remoteness, but what took the Fereldans' breaths away was the rolling expanse of land that seemed to go on forever. To the north, Ambrose explained, there was more land and the Waking Sea. Elissa sighed wistfully, for she had been raised on its shores and missed it so. It was nice knowing that she might see its waters at least. To the south lay the Dales, a vast open region of land and forest that once belonged to the Dalish Elves. They still lived on it but they did so secretly for fear they might be forced into an Alienage or wiped out by resentful humans. It was a terribly sad way to live. But at least they were free, in their hearts and minds if not their bodies.

The warmer weather of Orlais was a welcome respite from the bitter cold that they endured coming here. It was still chilly and periodically a wind crept into ones armor to make it feel colder than it was but it was at least tolerable. The fur cloaks had gone into their packs for now. Grass, lots of it, swayed along either side of the gravel road. Once in a while, they would pass a farm or homestead. Twice, they even paid for shelter from intermittent fall rains in peoples' animal shelters. One old woman recognized them immediately as Grey Wardens and opened her home to them with deep respect and awe. She couldn't understand a word of Fereldan but when the whiskey flowed, she understood every smile and gesture of affection they offered. Her visitors were gone the next day by dawn and when she awoke, she was shocked to find that on her kitchen table lay a small fortune in sovereigns. Even though that whisky had given Elissa's companions each massive headaches, the company had been worth every stomach-relieving retch and every agonizing pound within their skulls.

One change that had occurred was to their companion. He seemed both at ease and on edge at the same time. He was happy to be home, that was clear. But he seemed reluctant to press forward even though he urged them on. Sometimes he seemed joyful and carefree and other times, he was distant and brooding. It was frustrating to determine which was which but they managed to deal with him whatever his mood. Once, he was so happy he kissed Elissa's cheek and danced with her in a wide, golden field of chest-high grain. She laughed as Alistair watched closely. He didn't think the man would do anything but he watched nevertheless.

A day after Ambrose's reluctant confession, Alistair ventured another query into his past. "Are the Chevalier anything like the Templars?"

There was a pause and then finally a thoughtful answer. "Non. They are both good fighters but the Templars are full of religious zeal where a Chevalier is ruled by the Empire, though they are largely on their own. There is a command structure. We were given assignments to various posts. But while a Chevalier may take an unwilling woman to bed, a Templar is generally of such moral fabric that he will not. If the Templar is ordered to take the unwilling woman to bed, he may do it if he is truly devout and his Maker orders him to or he may refuse without repercussion. The Chevalier, on the other hand, has no moral recourse and such refusal is punishable. A templar may take a mage's home and lands but a Chevalier may take _anyone's_ home and lands… even if he is simply being cruel. And rape is… _entertainment_ to them. Crossing one is certain death. There is no oversight. They answer only to the Empress or the Emperor, who generally lets them do as they please."

Ambrose watched carefully for their reactions and he was satisfied when he saw horror reflected in their eyes.

They paused at one point to gaze at a scenic vista that lay before them at the crest of a high hill. "You don't seem like the kind of person you're describing. How did you become a Chevalier?" Elissa asked softly.

He shrugged and started down the other side of the hill. "Ah. My childhood... I was sent to be a squire to one as a lad by my father. I don't even remember his name or who he was. Morally, I was not like that at all. It was a great moral conflict for me because I watched my fellows do what they wished when they wished it. Once, they tied a young woman to a post, naked, and took _turns _on her. When it came to mine, I touched her breast, her shoulder, looked like I was going to do it and I untied her ropes. I sent her on her way, much to the disappointment of my fellows. They began to tease me. They made 'virgin' references to my face. Little did they know that the girl returned me that night at my room in the Inn that I was staying and offered herself to me. I accepted, of course. She was _beautiful_, after all. She robbed me of my sovereigns before dawn and ran. Normally, such an act would be instant death but she had earned it." He refused to speak more of it after that and for a while, they traveled in silence.

"Silence" was punctuated by many things including child-like races through the tall grass and wheat that lined the roads. Alistair and Elissa found a great deal to occupy one another with as they traveled. They were always talking, laughing about some personal joke or discussing the kingdom. The Bannorn occupied their conversations a great deal as did discussions about what to name the baby. "Duncan" was a popular name and for a girl (though Elissa believed it would be a boy) Leilia seemed to suit. And they teased each other about the possibility of twins. They did try to involve Ambrose as much as possible but he seemed so sullen and subdued most of the time that they left him largely alone.

Late the sixth day out from the pass, they crested another hill. This vista was as stunning as the first but for one difference; on the horizon laid the shattered ruins of an ancient city rather than endless fields of gold and brown. Ambrose pointed. "Those ruins! Do you see? Halamshiral! We are so close to Lydes but rather than continue on, I would like to see the ruins. Do you hear?"

He turned around, prepared to snap at them and frowned as Elissa stood eyes wide, clutching her belly. Alistair, worry in his amber eyes, was there, his arm encircling her. "_Mon Ce'aire_? Are you all right?" Ambrose asked, suddenly fearful. She grabbed Alistair's hand and lifted the mail and plate armor of her shirt up over her swollen abdomen. She placed his free hand on a spot near the upper left of her belly and closed her eyes. Soon, Alistair's face lost all color and his eyes widened. Tears began to stream from them as he dropped to his knees and held her close. He kissed her belly and ran his hands across its smooth surface.

"My baby… My baby is moving. I felt my baby moving…! I… I cannot go further. We have to camp, Ambrose. This… is too important. I'm sorry. Explore tomorrow. For now, my knees are too weak to carry me and my heart is beating faster than I've ever felt it. My baby moved under my hand and I am… I can't… I…" and he sobbed happily against her. Ambrose blinked at the happy scene before him and closed his eyes. He turned before they could see his own tears, tears of pain that flowed down his bewhiskered cheeks. Grey Wardens cannot have children between them, he had once been told. Clearly, this was not true. Carefully, deliberately, he set up the camp around them, allowing them to embrace one-another in their special moment. He remembered a time, once, when his own wife did the same thing with his hand and the awe he had felt. It was the least he could do.

When dawn came, he was eager to descend the hill and make for the ruins, which were at least an hour away at their pace. He rushed breakfast, he rushed packing, and he all but shoved them down the road toward the ancient elven city. About half-way there, Alistair called a halt. "Okay, Ambrose, _enough_! We were specifically warned _away_ from that place and now you want to just go dancing in like it's some great southern tourist attraction where we're _guests_ eager to be entertained? Is there something there you need or can it wait for, oh, a safer place to explore? You know, the kind of place that won't turn us all into pin-cushions if we _piss_ off the Dalish who might be lurking there?"

The tall, thin Grey Warden actually seemed to shift from foot to foot. He looked down at the ground, at the distant city and avoided Alistair's piercing golden gaze completely. "I have my reasons…" he muttered stubbornly.

These days, Elissa seemed softer than the men ever remembered her being and she only reinforced it as she approached him and gently touched his face with her fingers. Alistair bristled but kept his mouth shut. She had a way about her, a way that would serve her as a mother and a queen in years to come. Her methods of persuasion were unmatched as she asked him the simplest of questions, "…and those are?" Her efforts paid off as they always did. Even Alistair could not resist her charms and they had been married for four years, together more than five. He sighed.

"I… I am descended from elves, I was once told. A woman whose line gave my Grandmother the ser-name of '******Meriszan' is said to have lived here and I want confirmation of this. I have an amulet bearing what I assume was her symbol and if I find it repeated, I will know the truth. At least, I hope I will."

Alistair looked at Elissa and she shrugged. It was all on him. Great. "Why couldn't you do it before? While you were, I don't know, living here your _whole life_?" he asked irritably.

The way Ambrose gazed over his shoulder at the distant city was not unlike the way a thirsty man looks at a distant lake. Alistair was trying to be firm but his resolve was swiftly eroding. "I have not had the chance. I was raised more north of here and as a Grey Warden, I have been stationed closer to Val Royeaux than anywhere else _near_ here. Duty, as it were, has kept me at bay. When I have had the chances, they have been ruined by circumstance or poor preparation. Also, I did not dare attempt it alone. I have… too few friends I would trust my back to." It was a bitter acknowledgment and it humbled his two companions.

This time, Elissa gave Alistair the sign he desired from her. He was startled to see her teal eyes well up with tears and her quick, short nod of approval. He rolled his eyes and wiped his face with his hand. "Damn. Fine. Fine. We will explore the ruin but don't you _dare_ touch anything or it won't just be the elves you'll have to worry about!" The hug was eager and unexpected; it about knocked Alistair off his feet. He was also unprepared for the kiss Ambrose planted on Elissa's full lips. "AH! _Hello_! That's my _wife_ you just kissed there!" Elissa, for her part, seemed equally surprised and happily dazed as Ambrose practically danced around them. He started up the road and left his companions to take up the slack behind.

Alistair looked at Elissa and she smiled in return. "Yes?" she asked.

"He kissed you…" he said.

"Yes. That does appear to be what he did. I _think_, anyway," she replied tartly.

"I should kick his ass for that."

"Hmm. 'Twould be a waste of a nice ass if you ask me. Just saying. A boot-print, let alone the scar I left him, would surely be amusing but highly unattractive. You really should be more forgiving, Alistair. He did it on the spur of the moment and it's not as if he wants to be more than friends with me anyway. There is no reason in the world to be jealous of the man!" She kissed him on the lips and held his hand firmly in hers. "Besides… You are the only man who has my heart and even though I have shared my body with another man and a woman to boot, I will never share my heart with anyone but you."

Startled by her naiveté _and_ her reasoning for it, Alistair found himself questioning his jealousy himself. Even if Ambrose were to try something, as long as _he_ still had Elissa's love, what did it matter who she gave her body to? It's not as if he _owned_ her, after all. It was something to ponder and thinking on it relaxed him greatly as they continued on into the long abandoned city.

Where Ambrose had gone, they did not know as they explored the ruins. While they looked at the ancient symbols etched into the ancient stone and scuffed out by humans, Alistair gave Elissa a rough history lesson on what they gazed upon. "The elves," Alistair told her, "called this place Halamshiral: 'The End of the journey'. It was given to them, as part of the Dales south of here, as a reward for aiding Thedas against the Imperium during Andraste's rebellion. It was named because it was founded at the end of what they called, 'The Long Walk'. Many died during the Walk. But once established, Halamshiral floursished and the elves regained much of their former glory. But in time, the Chantry saw only a massive number of souls that needed _Saving_ but they kept getting rebuked every time they tried to _Save_ their pagan souls. When they couldn't _Save_ them, they tried their level best to destroy them and pretty well _succeeded_. The city was razed and every symbol of the elves' former glory erased from the stone or burned or demolished from the city and the memories of those who had once called it home. And people wonder why I resented the Chantry so much. 'If it at first you don't succeed, destroy all evidence they existed' seems to be thier motto. It really makes me mad. It goes for pretty much anyone who doesn't believe in the Maker."

Elissa was impressed as she looked up at her husband. "I was unaware that you were so familiar with the history of the Elves. I am duly impressed."

He winked down at her. "I once told you I studied history, my love. The history of Chantry-oppressed peoples was one of my favorite things to read about and part of the reason I am-" he was cut off by shouting. Angry words commanded someone to stop and put down the "implement" or he would be killed.

"I am warning you, Shemlan! Drop the weapon and cease what you are doing or I will fire my bow!"

A voice rich with strongly accented Orlesian replied, "I meant no harm! I am only seeking answers! I beg of you, allow me to continue. Please!"

Alistair cursed Ambrose's name under his breath as he drew his sword and approached the place where Ambrose crouched, a wax "weapon" in one hand and a sheet of clean parchment in the other, a partial rubbing visible in red on its surface. "Leave him be," Alistair snarled.

Suddenly, about twenty individual bows complete with its own deadly sharp arrow appeared. Each pointed tip was aimed at the royal couple, a few still pointing at Ambrose. They were surrounded by Dalish elves, each determined to inflict fear if not pain on those they aimed at. Alistair glanced sharply at Ambrose, who struggled to appear innocent. "You just _had_ to touch something, didn't you? Idiot! Great. I always wanted to find out how far they can shoot their bows. I guess we'll get to find out, all up close and personal." Indeed, it was apparent that they were surrounded by many of the sharp barbs.

"Prepare to die, Shemlen…" the assumed leader snarled as he drew back his arrow.

To be continued….


	17. Chapter 17

**Tainted Dreams**

**Part 17**

**The Keeper of the Ruin**

Alistair and Elissa both held their breaths as Ambrose dropped the wax stick to the ground. It broke in half on contact. He swallowed hard and watched the thin elvish archer creep near him. Another seized him from behind and together they shoved him to the ground while a third, a woman, searched his clothes. She found an amulet with strange runes on the front and a symbol of entwining trees on the back. Ambrose thrust out his hand to grab for it and accidently punched the woman in her face. Her delicate nose erupted blood and she kicked him in the head as retaliation. "No! It's mine! My Grandmother gave it to-" he shouted.

"Lies!" the first male shouted with a spray of spittle. "You are a lying, thieving Shemlen! You cost us this city and no matter what we do to protect her treasures, your kind still returns to rape her. Well, Shemlen, pray to your Maker because your seconds are numbered. Have you anything you wish to say?"

Ambrose locked sad eyes on Elissa and wept. "Elissa, before they kill me, you must know that I l-"

"Stop! All of you! Lower your weapons at once and allow the human to rise. You are acting like the barbarians the humans accuse us of being," a wizened voice interrupted. It was just in time too, Alistair noted. He let out his breath in a sigh.

The red-haired elf-woman, a cloth held to her broken nose, came forward and stabbed a finger at Ambrose. "Keeper, please! He was defacing our ruins!"

The tallest elf Elissa and Alistair had ever seen stepped out from the shadows. She must have been a full head taller than any of the males. She wore a simple silk gown that flowed behind her though there was no breeze. She was exotically beautiful with long, ground-length pale hair the color of moon-spun-sunlight. All through it were colorful flowers and autumn leaves. Her face was narrow with high cheeks and a small nose. She was pale of skin with flush, pink cheeks and a fine, porcelain completion. The Keeper's lips were full and a lush, sparkling warm dark-pink. Eyes the color of a pale winter brook looked out from behind long, black lashes. They were heavy-lidded, large and almond-shaped beneath arched pale-brown eyebrows. In her long, delicate arms she held a silver fox whose blue eyes blinked out from its black mask. Its ink-tipped tail curled around her arm.

She knelt and picked up the broken stick of wax and noted the rubbing on the parchment. "Hmm. Defacing indeed! The _horrors_! Gaining _knowledge_ from wax and parchment being amongst the most wicked forms of graffiti! The gods forbid the man be accused of _plagiarizing_ some ancient poet! For it was graffiti he appears to have copied. 'There was an old lady who lived in a shoe. She was a whore and a bit of a shrew. She forced me to my studies as that's what she'… ah… 'do'… Oh dear. Poor boy was angry at his teacher." She sighed and crossed her arms as she looked at the elfin woman. "Have you stronger charges against the human or shall I let him go now?"

"Why will you not see? There is more. This Shem stole from us! Here! See? He claims it's his but it belongs to us!"

She stepped carefully up to elf-maid and took the amulet from her and studied it carefully. "Hmm… Ayeron Meriszanelan… 'Le Vasuer une la Saguin.' Where did you get this, human? Surely it was not from here? Sadly, this place had been picked over many decades before you came along. This is a very valuable item." She placed it in the hand cradling the fox and laid her fingers against the elf's cheek. Magic glowed at her finger-tips and healed the woman's splintered nose in seconds.

Ambrose fought his way to a standing position as the elves reluctantly loosened their grip. Alistair and Elissa joined him on either side to show solidarity with their friend. An elf tried to grab Elissa's arm but a dagger appeared at the tip of his nose before he could do anything. She narrowed her eyes at him. He slowly backed away. "The amulet was my Grandmother's. She says I was descended from an elf named 'Meriszan…" Ambrose began.

Shouts shattered the peace of the ruins and the Keeper all but _threw_ her disappointed gaze at them, shushing them instantly. "Have you no respect? Shemlen or no, the man is speaking and we should give him that at least."

"What has his kind ever given _us_, Keeper? Poverty? Despair? Unwanted half-human children?" someone shouted rudely from beyond a crumbling home.

Their leader sighed and closed her eyes briefly, sadly before walking serenely to where Ambrose stood. She offered him her delicate hand and murmured, "Repeat after me, _Mon ve'erte_. 'Vale'sal entemirii. Tol sothis kemilin. Ovris mali.'" Though he took it warily, he repeated her words much to the anger and shock of the elves surrounding them. "You have just sworn Forest Brother to me until you leave us. You and your friends are protected as long as none break the oath. That makes you my _guests_. Come. We have much to discuss, you and I. It seems you may be directly descended from a great hero of ours. She is similar to your Andraste in many ways."

The tall Grey Warden took the slender arm not occupied by the curious fox who watched him closely, not trusting him in the least. Even as tall as she was, the top of her head barely grazed the tip of his crooked nose. She must have born the weight of centuries but she looked no older than a well-preserved forty-year old human. Laugh-lines surrounded her eyes and mouth when she smiled, something she did often. "So you believe me, Keeper?" he asked.

She nodded and pulled her arm back to her body so that she could lift the hem of her dress as they descended a flight of worn stairs. The silk gown was a color of white-gold so pure and delicate that it was hard to see where the glittering ribbons of her hair ended and the dress continued. They floated out behind her as one. "The amulet says much but I think _you_ say even more. Meriszanelan was known as 'the First and the Last' for a number of reasons. I am sure you recognized that bit of Orlesian I recited?"

Ambrose nodded and politely accepted her hand as she carefully stepped over a fallen log. "It is archaic but not unfamiliar," he replied. They had entered a forested area near the ruins and stood in a kind of "tent city", a mobile Dalish camp that could be moved if something wrong were to occur. They followed her to a modest tent near the camp center. She leaned in to speak to an attendant outside the tent and requested tea, wine and food for her guests. That those "guests" were shemlen startled to man but he ran off to do as his lady requested.

"Please forgive my people's reactions. To this day we bear the scars of hundreds, nay, _thousands_ of years of abuse, slavery and racism at the hands of humans. I, as keeper, have the memories of those keepers before me and some lived in more pleasant times when humans and elves were kinder to one another. Perhaps it is naïve of me to me to say it but I yearn for a return to that time. Your Majesty, King Alistair, I have heard rumors that your own people are well on their way to that end. Is this not true?" She carefully placed the fox on the carpeted floor of her tent and he scurried over to where his own plush bed lay. He then began gnawing on a bit of leg-bone though he kept his blue eyes on the intruders to his den and watched them warily.

The subject of her query blanched. She serenely gestured for him to sit and he about fell into the plush couch. "How did you know who I am?" he gasped.

She laughed and picked up his huge shield. On it was a carefully designed emblem bearing Ferelden's blue and gold colors, Denerim's golden lion and a snowy white gryphon in an amalgamation of symbology that all but screamed what he was. "Alistair is the only Grey Warden to _be_ king. Anywhere. Ever. These symbols, apart from one another, mean little. Together, to those educated enough to know, they can mean but one thing.

"And you can only be Queen Elissa. Though your shield is the same as his, I derive my assumption from the descriptions of you I have heard from others. We elves _revere_ you. Even in this remote land in southern Orlais. You ended the slave trade which sent so many of us to the Imperium and elsewhere. You killed those who ran it and made peace with the Dalish within your _own_ country. You spearheaded this peace and though you had help, it was you, Hero of Ferelden, who succeeded this and earned our trust. You are a friend among us and _no_ Shemlen, Your Majesty. It is to you that_ I_ humbly bow." She bent slowly at the waist and smiled. Elissa blushed and nodded her head in return.

She set aside the shield so that she could kneel before Elissa and placed her hands upon Elissa's growing belly. "That _you_ _too_ have managed the seemingly impossible by being _both_ a Grey Warden and mother of a Grey Warden's child is yet another reason to honor you. Both you and your husband have encountered near impossible odds and yet you have triumphed. You are indeed heroes." Then she slowly cast her gaze upon Ambrose again. He had remained standing. She rose to her feet, facing him.

"Then there is you, Ambrose. An enigma to be sure but you are a fine example of goodness for the most part. Within you, however, I sense darkness, a thing that threatens all you know, all you hold dear. You cannot speak of it lest it destroy you. I understand. But how did you come to this place? How did you become a Grey Warden? I can figure this out on my own should I wish to, simply by skimming the surface of your mind, but your companions deserve an answer. I believe they would be impressed."

He paled and tears streamed down his cheeks. He looked so much older in that moment, so vulnerable that Elissa couldn't stand it. She rose and wrapped her arms around him. "You don't have to, Ambrose."

"She-she can read your thoughts!" he stammered at her. Elissa nodded and pulled him down to sit between her and Alistair. He gained courage from the pair, sat up and glared reproachfully up at their host. "I will tell my tale, _Mon ellei_, as you ask but only if you swear you will tell me all you know of my ancestor and show us the ruins, such as the places she walked and lived."

The keeper laughed and stood tall, her long fingers across her lips and her eyes dancing above them. "Had you ever any doubt that I would? It was my intent all along! But I would hear your _version_ of things, not merely the things that happened. _That_ is all I can glean from the surface. I can only see the events but not the emotion. To gather more would mean prying deep into the recesses of all that you are and that is impossible at this… time. Besides, it would be invasive and rude and I am neither."

Ambrose nodded and sat up. He had avoided this for far too long and actually being forced to do it was a surprising relief to him. He doubted it would have any bearing on his friendship with Alistair and Elissa but, being a deeply private man, getting him to speak of his past was akin to pulling a healthy tooth: eventually, it would come out but it would be bloody painful.

"I was born to the north of Valy Royeax in a small, poor village near Ghislain, in the Fields of Ghislain. My mother and father suffered from a plague that ripped through the region at the time and a bitter, cold winter made their recovery impossible. My somewhat wealthier Grandmother felt pity for me and took me in when I was five. By the age of nine, I had grown to be too much for her to care for so she sat me down and told me of my past.

"The moment she said that I was descended from Elves, I was suspicious and doubtful. But I listened to this tale she told, a story about a woman who tried to save her people but died in the process leaving behind a daughter who would carry on her legacy. As proof, my Grandmother gave me this amulet. Then, a few days later, she sent me away to Val Royeax to be chosen as a squire. I was accepted and she died a year later. She left me her land, her house, her gold and her books but all I could carry with me was her honor. For even though I had been chosen to someday join the ranks of the Chevalier, their ruthlessness would not be mine. I had been raised better, or so I'd hoped. I was only eighteen when I completed training and gained my full rank.

"Then one day, some three years after becoming a full Chevalier, working for the emperor himself, I was witness to a rape, a brutal attack on a woman only fifteen or sixteen years of age. That the rapist was my own commanding officer could only make it worse for me. Part of me cried that it could not continue. The other part screamed that it was his right. He was Chevalier and to go against him was certain death. Even for one of his own, reasons be damned.

"What was I to do? The only thing I could do…

"I killed him."

To be continued


	18. Chapter 18

**Tainted Dreams**

**Part 18**

_A bit violent. Contains a scene of torture._

**The Consequence of Honor **

**Ambrose's Story **

In the lamp-lit gloom of Keeper Solima's tent within Halamshiral's neighboring group of nomadic Dalish, Ambrose clasped his hands before him and tried to breathe. He stared down into his sweaty palms, trying to continue. Maker, this was hard. He disliked retelling his own story because it made him think of the shame he felt for his country. He had been raised with so much wonder and pride and then, upon becoming a ranked Chevalier at last, he watched all that pride dashed. Oh, it's true he knew what they could do and he had even heard the stories of how terribly the peasants were treated. But it was not until three years later that the brutality of his own kind became so evident. He had always managed to stop them before. And he always thought that if he spoke to other Chevalier, if he could somehow convince them that what they did to those lesser than they was wrong, he could change them.

Right. Changing a thousand plus years of doing things just so wasn't going to happen overnight, and not because one man wishes it. He needed a proverbial slap in the face to understand that. And it happened one cold, rainy night as he stood over the body of his commanding officer, his sword covered in wet, inky blood. It was on his hands, splattered red across his breast plate and drops were drying on his skin and beard. His young face was lined with agony and his eyes held despair. "I am so sorry…" he sobbed as he fell to his knees into the pooling blood.

The girl he saved joined him after she replaced her clothing. Gently, she laid a hand on his shoulder and kissed his cheek. "You are a good man, Mon cir. You did a good deed. Do not weep, for this man was evil."

He lifted forlorn blue eyes to hers and shook his head. "What he did was evil, not the man that did it. What we Chevalier do to you is evil. Not we Chevalier ourselves."

She hugged him to her and stroked his long, soft black hair and sobbed against his neck. "You would never do such a thing. I see it in you that you are a great, kind man who is not like the others. What's more, you regret the death of someone who took pleasure from doing this… part… of his job. This man here has raped before. My mother… He took my mother… sixteen years ago and some. Among many others."

Ambrose was shocked. He pushed her away and searched her face. "Did he know that…?"

"Yes. It is part of why he did it. And not the first time. Because of you, good Ser, it will be the last. As I said, this man was evil."

Ambrose rose to his feet and held the young girl closely before handing her a pouch of coins. There were at least one hundred gold sovereigns there. "For you and your mother. From him. Go now. Be off! The guard will see this soon and I do not want you here or they will shift blame from me to you no matter what I say. Chevalier are above the law and you are beneath it. Run to Ferelden! They do not rape their daughters for pleasure there."

She gave him a quick parting kiss on the lips and ran away. He heard her bare feet splashing through the puddles of the dark alley as he turned to face the heavier splashing of the night-watch coming from behind him. "Ser! What happened?" the watch said as he looked down at the corpse of the Chevalier Officer. Ambrose followed his gaze.

"He was raping a young girl. His own daughter. I could not let it continue," he answered honestly.

The watch dropped to the dead Chevalier's body and turned him over, searching desperately for some sign of life. Ambrose watched emotionlessly and shook his head. "Non, ser. It is with surety that I say I took his life. I ran him through the gap in his armor where the shoulder meets the chest-plate. It is a straight-shot through the heart. To end it quickly for him, I then slashed his throat. I doubt he suffered as much as the child. I wish he had suffered more."

The watched stared at Ambrose in shock. "B-but you're brothers! You're one of them! It was his right to take her…!"

"And if it had been your own daughter? Or your wife? Or your sister?"

The guard sighed and looked up into the rainy sky. The light of distant torches and the occasional lamp gleamed wetly across the older man's face. "I didn't say I agreed with it. Just that it was his right. I have to turn you in, you know. Vigilantes are rarely heroes."

Ambrose nodded slowly. "You do your job. I am happy that I have taken away one rapist from these streets. It would be tempting not to take out more."

He was brought before the Magistrate in Val Royeaux where he was stripped of his armor and his dignity. Humiliated but refusing to show it, he was forced down to his knees before Emperor Florian and the commander of Val Royeaux's Chevalier. "What charges have been brought against you, Chevalier?" the emperor murmured. One of his young sons, a boy not much younger than the girl he'd rescued, kicked him in the head. "Speak! Your emperor asked you a question!"

The black-haired man turned his face and stared up at them. Then he spat blood at the lad as well as the tooth he'd dislodged. It bounced off the boy's blood-ruined clothing and clattered onto the floor. That resulted in a painful kick to his face, breaking his nose and splattering his blood all across the white alabaster of the audience chamber. As he turned his face the other way, he saw a young girl, maybe four, gazing at him in her night dress from a dark doorway. She was holding a doll in both arms. For some reason, he smiled at her. For some reason, she smiled back. Then someone kicked him in the ribs and he groaned. Drooling blood and spit, Ambrose wheezed with pain. The last kick had broken a rib.

"He is not speaking! Take him to the cellar and open his back. He knows what he's been charged with. I want it ingrained into his soul before we make a public example of why we do not kill Chevalier!" the emperor yelled as he hauled the tall man up by his hair and they dragged him down into the chambers beneath the palace. Just a week earlier, he'd been drinking wine and eating cheese with Florian. It was difficult being treated like this by someone he had considered a friend.

Ambrose was chained to a wall, his face pressed against the gritty slime that oozed down the stone. He heard the dungeon master chuckle as he snapped the whip on the ground in the hopes of instilling some fear. Ambrose closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. He leaned his swollen cheek against the stone and waited. When the blow came, it was like nothing he'd ever imagined. It burned and ached, like a paper-cut made a thousand times more painful. He felt warmth flow down his back, across his buttocks and down his thighs. As the whip continued to rend his flesh, he found the anticipation of it harder to bear than the actual pain itself. He didn't cry out much. All they got from him were some grunts and other odd noises. But, for as much pain as he endured over the course of some two hours of brutal lashing, he never admitted or denied the charges. Eventually they left him alone and he sagged against the wall.

In the dim cellar, there was silence for the most part. The occasional dripping of water down the wall and the scurrying of rodents kept him focused on something other than the pain. With the constant rending of his flesh done for now, every gust of air, every movement brought about exquisite pain. And his arms were aching badly from all his weight being bearing down on them. He often had to clench and unclench his fists to force blood to flow back into his fingers. He leaned his head against the wall to drink water from the slime clinging to it and did his best to alleviate some of the strain on his shoulders.

After a while, a tiny voice said, "Hello," to him. He gasped and tried to look at his visitor. "Who… who is there…?" he gasped.

The little girl from the door walked around the side of him so she could see his face. Her glittering green eyes peered up at him from a sweet, cherubic face surrounded by waves of rich, golden-brown hair. "My name is Celene. My uncle is the emperor. What's your name?"

He squinted his eyes shut and pressed his forehead into the wall. His face was swollen and everything on it hurt. Ambrose almost told the child to leave but he really wasn't in a position to order anyone around, let alone a precocious four or five-year-old. It was embarrassing, however, for her to see him naked with everything just sort of hanging out there. Fortunately, her eyes were on his face. "I am… Ambrose… Ambrose Fazsil," he grunted.

"Are you the Chevalier who killed Commander Irisham?" she asked innocently.

Suddenly suspicious, Ambrose clenched his jaw. "Know those fools no shame? To send a child to interrogate a man? I will not answer your question, child. Forgive me. They are fools to have sent you."

Confused, she cocked her head slightly up at him. "What do you mean? If my uncle knew I was down here, my bottom would be red as yours is. I saw you smile at me. I don't think you did everything they say you did. But I want to know. Are you a bad man? Bad men don't smile at little girls."

He relaxed a bit and nodded, scraping his cheek against the wall. "I am… not a bad man. I saved a… a child from a bad man. I took his life. I do not regret it."

The child disappeared and came back a moment later, dragging a bucket and a chair. Carefully, she balanced herself upon the chair and dipped a ladle into the bucket. She placed it, dripping cool water, to his lips. He drank deeply. She did this several times for him until his thirst was sated. "They plan to hang you, you know. Tomorrow. Before all the city. I wish they wouldn't. They need men like you among the Chevalier. My uncle is a bad man."

He smiled sadly and felt hot tears stream down his cheeks. They burned where they touched his wounds. "Thank you, little Empress. Mayhap it is your destiny to end his reign, no?"

She smiled and kissed his bloody, tear-streaked cheek before jumping down from the chair. "I just might!" she giggled. The child replaced the bucket and walked back over to where he stood. She now had something else for him. Again, she ascended the chair and tied something around his neck, letting it fall around his shoulders. It was a long sheet and this time, he kissed her cheek in thanks. "We don't want you catching cold now, do we?" she quipped as she pulled the chair back to wherever it was she found it.

"You have been kind. Now, run along, little one, lest you get us both into trouble. I will claim an embarrassed maid covered me to preserve her own dignity, if not my own," Ambrose chided with a painful smile. The girl exited the torture chamber but on the other side of the door, he heard a woman's voice thanking the girl and the child admonishing the woman to, "…save him or else." Then there was silence. Infused with water and warmth, Ambrose eventually fell into a troubled slumber, in spite of his active mind.

The next day dawned with a beam of sunlight rudely piercing his right eye. The left was sealed shut and his face was swollen all across the left side. He squinted and turned his cheek against the stone. His hands were completely numb. He tried to move his fingers but got only the barest of reactions. Did it matter, though? He stared at the Emperor as Florian stood imperiously beside him. "I see you had a visitor last night. Who did that?" he asked, pointing at the sheet.

"Maid…" Ambrose gasped thickly.

"Ah. Funny. The servants were all told to stay away from this room. Was it really a maid?"

"Could… noth… sthee…"

"Take him down. The gallows awaits your execution. What fun. There hasn't been one in far too long. Today, you're going to become a martyr. Or perhaps not. We will quell any uprising that is fueled by this." He was pulled down from the shackles and pain lanced out into his arms, his legs and his hands with the return of blood. His bones and muscles protested violently and his lash-wounds opened anew, spilling blood as they half-dragged the tortured man across the stone floor. They ripped away his sheet and paraded him naked through the palace. He was half-blind and numb from all the pain he was in as they brought him to the square in the center of the city. He couldn't recall the journey save that at one point, someone squeezed his hand in a show of support.

They shoved him up onto the wooden platform and he sprawled face-down. He tried to rise but was too weak to do so. The hangman approached him and he winced, waiting for another kick to the face. Instead, he saw a hand reaching for him. He took it gratefully and let the man haul him up. The noose was put around his neck and tightened. Carefully, he was led to the drop-spot and he stood, waiting for the moment he would die. The peasants, he noted with his good eye, were mostly silent. By now, many had heard of what he'd done and it saddened them to see him so broken.

A herald cried out to those gathered round, detailing each crime. Really, he was only guilty of murder but to that, they had added, "Dereliction of duty. Failure to obey a command. Vigilantism. Inciting a riot. (What?) Treason." There were others but Ambrose ignored them. They were merely justifications meant to right a perceived wrong. "Ged over with it, you blabbering fool…" he muttered to the herald. The man nodded and asked if Ambrose had any last words.

"Yesh. I do. Chevalier… are the mosht… reshbected warriorsh in our… land. It grieves me to know… whath they can thdo with… their mighth if they chooth it… I s-shaved… a shild… Yetth, I am punished. Ith… wrong… I ch-challenge you all… to fighth your oppresshors…!" he cried out to the crowd weakly. The peasantry cheered back in return. Several raised their fists.

"ENOUGH! Drop him!" Florian cried from in front of the platform. The hangman fingered the release but before he pulled on it, a woman's voice interrupted from the crowd.

"Stop what you are doing! In the name of the Grey Wardens, I conscript this man!" A cheer arose from those gathered, even among the nobles. The Warden, in fine armor bearing the silver Gryphon of the Grey Warden's heraldry, strode up to the platform. "Take him down. Gently. He has endured enough abuse," she said as she looked up at the hangman. He nodded and started loosening the noose.

Florian ran up the platform, his sword drawn, fully intending to drop the man himself but he found the Grey Warden to be most persuasive as her sword reached out across his throat, almost beheading him. "I say he lives. He is ours now to present for the Joining," she muttered darkly.

"He committed crimes… Unspeakable crimes," Florian argued plaintively.

"Oh? Killing a child rapist who pleasures himself on his own child is a crime? To have borne witness and done nothing would have been a far greater crime. Ser Ambrose proved that he is a decent man with a moral and just heart. In other words, he is too good for the Chevalier and just perfect for the Greys. We Grey Wardens are above the laws of any land and my right to conscript him supersedes any lust for 'justice' that you may claim. He is mine now." She snapped her wrist and cut the rope attached to Ambrose's neck. He staggered and she reached out to him. Several people helped carry him to an awaiting horse and carefully, they covered him up and placed him into the saddle so that he leaned forward over the pommel. The peasants reverently touched him as they bade farewell. Near the platform, a child with bright green eyes, a cherubic face and waves of silky gold-brown hair smiled at him and waved. For some reason, and now he knew why, he smiled in return.

"I was weeks in recovery with a Spirithealer by my side. I almost died from the infection. It was over a month later, in Weisshaupt that I finished my recovery and took my Joining. Sallais, the Grey Warden who conscripted me that day, was my mentor during my first year. Then the Calling drew her into the Deep Roads and she never returned. Shortly after that, I returned to the town outside Val Royeaux where my commander raped the girl. I was eager for news of how she was doing and asked about her. Eventually, we began to talk and finally see one another. A year later, were married and shortly after that, I had my first child followed by my second about two years later. My wife, she never recovered from the scars of what she endured but I had saved her so she trusted me."

The Keeper nodded and smiled as the little silver fox sniffed the humans seated on the couch and finally jumped into Ambrose's lap. He curled up after licking his paws and Ambrose's hand. Elissa ventured forth her fingers to the fox's ears and started to scratch it. The creature closed his eyes and cooed softly. "So Val Royeaux is a sad place for you. I think I understand. How terrible to be conscripted under such conditions.

"It is dark now, my friends. A tent has been prepared for you all, I hope you don't mind sharing. I have much to show you tomorrow and much to tell so off to bed. If you need food or drink, just ask for it."

Ambrose, Elissa and Alistair bade goodnight to their hostess and followed their guide through the trees to the vacant tent. They were shown the privy, a place to eat and the pond where they could bathe. Ambrose excused himself and grabbed a towel as he headed for the water. Alistair helped his wife enter the tent and they assisted one another with the removal of their armor. Once it was gone, Elissa, clothed only in a thin shift, snuggled her back against Alistair's bare chest. He perched his chin on her shoulder and slid his hands underneath her clothing. He caressed her gently as they talked.

"Well, love? What do you think?" he asked.

"Mmm. Lower, is what I think…" she said with a giggle. He gently squeezed her breast. "You know what I mean. Ambrose! What do you think?"

She rolled over and exposed her breasts for her husband's greater access. He didn't stop touching her as he awaited her reply. "Have you ever seen his back? He has scars, many, many scars. They practically mutilated him. So I think he's telling the truth. I feel really bad for him. His face also has scars about the nose and left cheek. I bet he was very handsome when he was young. I hate to see what his soul looks like…"

Alistair had begun kissing her face, neck and lingered over each breast before propping his chin on her belly. They were almost eye to eye. He loved looking up her torso like this, with her perfectly shaped, large breasts crowned by her adoring smile. "Makes you think, doesn't it? What else is he hiding, though? Do you trust him?" he asked softly.

She nodded, her fingers sliding along his jaw. "I want to. I admire him for what he's been through. Don't you?"

He nipped at them playfully and caught one in his mouth. He sucked it playfully. "Maybe. I guess I do. Still, don't let your guard down completely, okay? He might seduce you when I'm not looking."

She giggled as he started to tickle her. "That might not be so bad!" she laughed. "You are much more attentive when you're jealous." He laughed and wrestled her in the bed. It culminated, of course, in a very fast and very intense sexual climax that left them both laughing in between breaths. Elissa was sprawled completely naked and uncovered in the blankets with her head resting on Alistair's muscular torso. He was covered by a blanket from the groin down and that is how Ambrose found them. His eyes widened as he drank her in. She made no effort to move or cover herself.

Alistair sighed and laughed. "Ambrose, your eyes are going to fall out of their sockets if you keep staring like that. Get over yourself and relax. Is the water nice?"

"Yes. Cold but nice. I could leave you two alone if…" he suggested as he started to leave.

Alistair, wearing the blanket and nothing else, smiled and clapped him on the back as he headed out into the woods. "Done already. Relax and get some rest. I'm off to bathe. Behave, you two."

Elissa smirked and slipped the sheet loosely around her body. It covered very little and left a great deal exposed to be appreciated. "Never mind us. We warned you that I was frisky these days. I wanted to thank you for that story. It was very touching the way you told it."

"I won't tell it again," he murmured as he made a pile out of his pillows and prepared to throw himself into it. His lean, finely muscled body from the waist up was bare and Elissa scrambled to her knees to touch the scars that criss-crossed their way across his back. He froze at her touch and shivered. They were long healed white ribbons of what must have been sheer agony for him to endure. He choked back tears as she ran her fingers along the scars. Her breath was hot against his skin. "How did you recover from it?" she asked softly, her hands brushing aside his wet hair to where the scars began at his neck. He felt her breasts press against his back. He made a strangled cry and dashed outside into the cold night air on bare feet. A moment later, Alistair returned, looking amused.

"Torturing him again, I see. He ran to me and accused you of being an evil wench and said he would return after dunking himself in cold water for several hours. Were you being flirtatious, my love?" He slid back into the blankets beside her. She smiled innocently.

"Just asking about the scars… That's all."

"Uh huh. Evil wench."

To be continued.


	19. Chapter 19

**Tainted Dreams**

**Part 19**

**Disclaimer:**

I researched the sod out of Halamshiral and studied timelines and I place most of the historical part of the tale around the time of the second Blight, between about 1:90 Divine and 2:30 Glory. I am trying to maintain canon as much as possible with some leeway given for my own unusual plot circumstances. If someone has anything to note about this, something glaring, not something like, "they wore SATIN not SILK," let me know. I'm looking for accuracy here. And yes, I know that during a Blight, the Greys don't usually turn down potential recruits. But the reasons are clearly stated. Anyway, no sex, no real violence, just possibly inaccurate historical information.

**Halamshiral, A Tale of Two Women**

Morning had dawned much too early and when Elissa awoke, she awoke to her husband's gold-brown eyes dreamily gazing into hers. He was stroking her cheek with his thumb and smiling. "Good morning, my love. Did you sleep well?"

She nodded and stretched. "Oh I did! But… I think I was warmer last night…"

Her husband nipped at her nose playfully before kissing her firmly on the mouth. "That's because you spent the night as an 'Elissa Sandwich' between Ambrose and I. You seem to sleep really well that way so when he got up and moved over last night, I didn't say anything. He woke up a little while ago looking embarrassed but seemingly content."

She sat up, yawned and shivered in the cold tent. Eventually, they dressed and exited out into the Dalish camp. Ambrose was cheerfully talking to a young elfin woman in Orlesian but judging from her expression, she wasn't buying what he said. He laughed at her and looked up as Elissa and Alistair shouldered their weapons and their packs and headed his way through the new fall of fresh snow. It was snowing quietly around them and the camp had a muffled quality to it.

Ambrose walked up to her jovially and pulled her gear from her shoulders, ignoring her protests as he grabbed it. He put it down and took her hand then he whirled her about while humming an approximation of some happy song. After spinning her around until she was dizzy, he leaned her back and planted a very long wet kiss on her mouth. Alistair's eyes widened and he almost stormed up to Ambrose but seeing the man's smile stopped him. Then Ambrose winked slyly at him. It was then that he realized what the kiss was…

It was revenge for last night.

Alistair narrowed his eyes and smiled proudly.

She stood there, panting as she leaned her hand on Ambrose's shoulder. "I-I wow! That was… I need a bath now. A very cold bath to shock myself back to reality. You, ser, are an ass," she muttered darkly as she ran off to dunk herself in the frigid water. Alistair laughed as Ambrose strolled up to him, his arms crossed and a strange expression, a frown crossed with a smile, on his bearded face. He raised one thick eyebrow.

"The next time your wife flirts with me as she did last night, I won't jump in the lake, just so you know. And it will not be my fault. Do we have an understanding, _Mon ve'erte_?"

Alistair's only reply was a sly grin, the answer itself he kept inside his head. He already knew that was coming and for what it was worth, much of his jealousy was just an act. Elissa deserved that. He clapped Ambrose on the shoulder and picked up Elissa's gear, slinging it up with his own.

A few minutes later, Elissa arrived refreshed and smiling from her bath. She gave Ambrose a reproachful glare to which he replied with a playful smirk. She ate breakfast and the three of them headed to the big tent where the Keeper dwelled. She was ready at the entrance when they arrived. The cloak she wore was made of many kinds of fur. There was rabbit, wolf, fox, lynx, squirrel and many others. It covered her from her shoulders and drifted almost to her feet. Her hair was tucked up under the cloak, spilling over one arm. From its place in her embrace, the little white fox poked his nose out to see the people. "Are you ready to visit the ruins of Halamshiral, my friends?"

Ambrose nodded eagerly. She smiled and dropped the amulet into his hand. "You failed to collect this from me last night, child, so I took the liberty of fitting it with an appropriate chain. This way you can wear it. It is an item of great power and you should use it."

Ambrose took the amulet and slipped the silvery chain over his head then let the ancient metal fall to his chest. As he touched it, his eyes slid to Elissa's face and he licked his lips as he watched her. He had intended the kiss to be a kind of joke but it had been passionate and utterly to his liking. What was more, Elissa had kissed him back. Only intended as a quick, hard smooch, it wound up much longer for his prey's unexpected reciprocation. He _really_ wanted to do it again…

"…Ambrose, we're leaving. Your head's in the clouds again…" Alistair was saying as he tugged Ambrose along. He staggered and jogged up to the Keeper's side. "So, we are going to learn about my ancestor now?" Ambrose asked her with a raised eyebrow.

The Keeper nodded as she ascended the stairs, the hem of her gown held in the hand not cradling the fox. Ambrose took her elbow politely as he would do with a lady of great rank. It was instinctive and earned him an approving smile for it. "You will also learn some history, my friend." She stood tall and moved to the ruined gate of the once proud city. "The tale I am about to tell sounds like the words of a ballad sung by Orlesian Minstrels, to be honest, but it is truer than any version the Human cities' libraries will tell. It has been passed from Keeper to Keeper throughout the ages and you are the first humans I have ever, in all my many years, told it to. I pray you hold it in your hearts and repeat it if you are asked.

"This city was the greatest city since our first, the great Arlathan, was felled by the Imperium before the Chantry existed. When we elves rose against the Imperium alongside the honorable Andraste, humans offered us this land known as the Dales and left us largely in piece." She walked among the buildings, pausing at times to point out a bit of creative masonry or a building that belonged to someone of importance.

"We rebuilt slowly but surely. Our ancestors even reclaimed a bit of the knowledge lost to us during ages of slavery and oppression. We began to live longer and our culture thrived. The art, oh, so breathtaking. Literature! Yes, we even had literature. Here, you see this massive building? You see the stones forming a curved wall over here and… and the wings! Come! Look at this! You are standing in the mightiest school that ever existed. It was a college of massive proportions. When humans began to seek out the instruction offered here, the Chantry began to take notice. Humans were turning away from the Maker and some were even learning our magic. Mathematics, science, astronomy… This place here, I think… Yes, it was part of a lecture hall. Students sat in tiered rows as a teacher educated them on history and language… Ah, but if we could have that again. But the Chantry was jealous…

"They asked us to build a place of Worship, which we refused. Even our own Gods were allowed only a token presence in Halamshiral because it was a place of learning and not a place of worship. They sent in their missionaries, who were politely refused. Then they sent in their Templars. Those were also refused. Our ancestors tried to be polite and reminded the Chantry numerous times that we were our own sovereign people who governed our own with our own laws, in our own ways and that we had our own gods and goddesses. Alas… They ignored our words and became ever determined to change us. For fifty years, they tried to undermine our ways." She paused by a building that might have once been someone's home. She placed the fox down on the ground and knelt sadly. "Halamshiral is the result of what happens when the power-hungry become more powerful and the corrupt thereby corrupt others in return. The Chantry's original goal was peaceful worship of a fine prophet and leader. Now, they seek to rule the world and damned if they have not succeeded."

She gestured to the building and touched Ambrose on the shoulder. "This was your ancestor's home. Ayeron Meriszanelan lived here during the last fifty years of our great city's existence. _'Le Vasuer une la Saguin'_, she is called. It means, 'The first and the Last'. She was the first, they say, to have _herself _conscripted as a Grey Warden when they refused to accept her. And she was the last to stand up to the Chantry during the final battle.

"She was a very powerful mage, one of the most powerful Battlemages to exist in our collective history. Meriszanelan had been fighting Darkspawn that lurked at the edges of our inhabited villages and the city itself. She grew restless, desiring a way to sense them thus making her efforts more effective. There was a blight to the north, you see, and the Darkspawn were swarming to the Archdemon's side. So, she left her home to seek out the Grey Wardens in Orlais. They refused to let her take part in the Joining because she was physically weak, even for an elf. They say she was small, very slender and delicate and the Wardens there believed she would die a wasteful death. That group was also cynical about the presence of women and elves as Grey Wardens anyway. What was worse…? They laughed at her.

"So she traveled on foot, alone, all the way north to Weisshaupt Fortress and it was there that she learned about the second Blight. They were preparing the final assault and needed Grey Wardens badly. But the Warden Commander told her she was too small and he feared for her should she take the Joining. It was repeat of the Orlesian's foolish excuses. Furious, she told him to accept her or, gods willing, she would 'conscript myself', she said. He was impressed and told her that should she survive the Joining, they would make a place for her.

"She did survive and traveled to the Freemarches where her magic aided the fight against the Archdemon. It was killed and the Darkspawn routed. At last, Ayeron Meriszanelan was free to head home after nearly ten years away. Then, a year later, the humans had had enough. The chantry made a horrific decision that would mean the end of our city, the home that we had known for almost three hundred years.

"To this day, we are not certain how we were blamed for the attack on Red Crossing, a human village in Orlais. It is suggested that Elfin slaves or those from the Alienage were paid handsomely to make us Dalish look terribly bad. Our histories maintain that we never committed the atrocities we were accused of. I believe we never attacked that village but who's to say who is right and who is wrong? The Chantry wanted to destroy us, and because of Red Crossing, the Orlesians declared war upon us and we defended ourselves, successfully for the most part. Our defense took them by surprise and the war lasted nearly fifteen years.

"During that time, Meriszanelan eventually got pregnant by an elf she met, a man she loved and who worked as a teacher in the college. She had been teaching magic and he was a scholar of history so they had made a wonderful pair. She gave birth to a baby girl during the height of the war. We pushed the battle on toward Val Royeaux where we sacked our way to the heart of Orlais. It didn't make us any friends but by this point, our goal was vengeance. The ancestors must have known we would lose but they were determined to cause as much damage as possible.

"Meanwhile, your ancestor, Ambrose, had turned her attention to defending Halamshiral. Eventually, the Orlesians broke through our defenses and our great city began to fall. She passed her infant daughter to a fleeing family and told them to defend her with their lives. They fled south and east, away from the city and deep into the dense forests of the Dales, where they could not be found.

"Meriszanelan used her combat magics, her shield magics and healing spells to allow the flight of most of the civilians. The last family she defended was that of a pregnant woman and her two small children. She gave the last of her magic to them in the form of a shield that protected them from every weapon the Orlesians and the Templars could hurl. She died at the hand of the Templar War Commander but not before using her sword to pierce his heart. When she died, those whose lives her magic saved fled deep into the forests and many headed east to Ferelden. Most survived.

"She became known as a hero though her name eventually faded from the collective memories of most of our keepers. I know it only because of our Clan's proximity to the ruins. The air is thick with history and stories of the great heroes who fell during this time. The Chantry erased the visages of our gods and defiled our buildings. They razed our city to the ground and destroyed the Heartwood Tree that had been so many things to us. If you look closely, you can see shadows of our architecture in stones left intact." The Keeper sighed as she looked around the ruins in sadness. "Then, bit by bit, the rest our settlements were destroyed and our people were forced either into the nomadic existence we Dalish have or the Flat ears, which dwell among humans as servants or live in the Alienage. It is not much of a choice in my opinion."

The little fox, ignored for some time now, placed its little black paws on Ambrose's leg. Smiling, he picked up the furry little thing and tucked it under his cloak where it settled in contentedly. "I assumed the daughter survived, Keeper?" he asked as his fingers suddenly became chew toys for needle-sharp teeth.

The elf-woman's eyes, so serene, so beautiful, settled on Ambrose's sun-tanned face. He stirred uncomfortably in that intense, leaf-eyed gaze. She nodded and raised her hand so he took it. They began to walk. "That daughter grew up in the wilds south of here. Her name is lost to me, however… When she was ten or so, her parents perished. But she, ever resourceful and gifted with her mother's magic, became the forest's mistress. She immersed herself in it, becoming one with nature. Rumors of the wild-woman's power spread and the humans begged the Chantry to do something about it. Evidently, she entertained herself by teasing men who came too close to where she hunted and then stole their equipment, leaving behind only the memory of her perfect body and her kiss." The keeper chuckled and picked up the hem of her dress as they descended the flight of stone steps once again.

"So they sent Templars. Many Templars. Those that returned refused to pursue her again, weeping as they described her beauty and her power. But one young man was intrigued and likely unimpressed by the Chantry's rules pertaining to marriage and sex and the like…"

"Keeper, Templars _can_ have families," Alistair reminded her softly.

"It is true but the _Chantry_ must choose whom and where and when and why and, most importantly, _if_. But unless they are singing a different tune these days, sex is still a sin and most Templars are very devout, eager to do anything the Chantry asks of them. This young man, was willing to, as it were, think _outside_ the Chantry's 'box'. He was clever, this Templar and in spite of traps that left him hanging, naked, trapped in pits, wet and otherwise laughed at by the little maiden who all but owned that forest, he still continued to pursue her. Indeed, it eventually became a game to them! A playful exercise that pleased them both and, because of it, the sorceress of the wilds no longer preyed on unwary woodsmen. She still shot them full of arrows but at least they did not run back complaining they had been 'raped' and 'mugged'.

"One day, the Templar was once again trapped by the young woman and as she came near him, he found himself lost in love and unable to move if he wanted to. She kissed him and took him down from the hanging trap he languished in then led him to a secret bower deep in the forest where they made love all day and all night for many days. He found that he could no longer chase her and left, vowing to return for good. She knew not to await his return but still, she did and during that time, she gave birth to a son.

The Templar did return but because the boy looked human, she begged her lover to raise him amongst his own kind, for a forest was no place to raise an unmagically-talented child. The infant had no reason to hide yet she did. The Templar, who was now considered a rogue himself, was saddened for having to leave his beloved and tried to tell her that he would find her again. She gave him her mother's amulet and wept as they left. He never did see her again after that…

"So he raised his son and allowed the boy to keep Meriszanelan's name but shortened it to Meriszan because it sounded Orlesian. The Templar, hunted now as he was by the Chantry, took the name himself and eventually married and had other children. The name is not common but nor is it rare, because of this. I suspect, because of the amulet, that you are the latest of Meriszanelan's true line. Or one of them. It's been almost a thousand years so I cannot think there are none left of her lineage. One branch held onto that amulet that entire time and passed it down to family members to keep the memory alive. I find that… fascinating."

She turned in the late morning mist of snow and smiled at them as she stood before her tent. "And there you have the history of your ancestry and now you know a bit more about our fallen city. I hope I have enlightened you."

Ambrose handed her the little snow-fox and nodded happily. "I am honored that you took the time to teach us. I will never look at those ruins in the same way again, Keeper."

She kissed his cheek and backed slowly into the shadows of her tent as she said, "That is good, Ambrose. I do not know what use it is to you now but it must make you proud to know you are descended from pranksters, thieves and mages! Oh yes, and elves. Good luck on your journey, for I must rest now. Farewell."

Ambrose turned to his companions and grinned. "Shall we continue? Lydes is less than a day's journey and we should arrive by nightfall if we begin now! They have a very nice Inn if I recall… Huge beds and fine food…"

Alistair clapped him on the back and the tall Grey Warden staggered forward, laughing.

To be continued (with a nice fluffy chapter because History lessons are so DRAINING!)


	20. Chapter 20

Tainted Dreams

Part 20

_This chapter and the next one (possibly 22 as well, depends on how it goes) will be light. After that, the main plot kicks in and the playfull scenes will become sparse. Enjoy!_

**The City of Lydes and the Infamous Salt Shaker**

The three Grey Wardens arrived in the city of Lydes at dusk. Hungry, tired and weary from the journey, they were eager to get settled in for a night and some decent food. Elissa's first impression was shock and amazement. This cosmopolitan city was described by Ambrose as being little more than "an impressive township that could be a city with a little effort." To her, it made their beloved Denerim look like little more than a well-equipped trading post. A dirty one at that. Denerim was home to all kinds of unusual smells, most of them foul, while Lydes smelled… She couldn't describe it. In the air were scents that flirted with her senses and teased her with their complexity. Many scents had accompanying flavors from the many taverns and eateries that lined its lovely stone-lined streets, now wearing a blanket of new snow. Wheel tracks weaved amid the prints of people. And the buildings were huge. They towered, in some cases, more than three or four stories above them.

Then there were the people. Noblemen and women laughed arm in arm in elegant clothing and flirted in low-cut gowns and summery perfumes. The poor and merchant classes were much different, however. As grey and dull as the people of Ferelden, they almost seemed to disappear amidst the splendor of the buildings and the impressive architecture that lined the elegantly designed roads. Ambrose seemed proud and ashamed at the same time as he pointed out the differences in the classes. The poor were very poor and the rich were very rich with only the merchant class enjoying anything that could be described as being "in between". They hawked their wares in the fading light and invited the visitors into buildings where they could peruse a multitude of items from clothing to furniture; perfumes to hats; flowers to books. Many even had glass windows with expensive items lavishly displayed.

Elissa was giddy with delight as she spotted one such window, exclaiming, "Look at that _dress_! Those shoes! Maker! The cut of the bodice is practically scandalous!" That made Ambrose laugh and explain that the current fashion, modeled after Empress Celene's present style of choice. The idea was to visually tease with as much bare breast as possible, even showing the nipples either above or through sheer lace or silk on breasts lifted high above the waist with a corset. The restraining garment itself looked terribly uncomfortable but the effect was mesmerizing on the mannequin. She wondered how it would look on her.

Alistair rolled his eyes and sighed, "Maker's breath! I married a _girl_!"

The look on Ambrose's face was amusingly quizzical as he rolled his eyes in Alistair's direction and said, "_Von, Mon Ve'erte_. Were she, in fact, a man, it would be very awkward to explain to your 'Landsmeet'."

Alistair snorted as he watched Elissa all but merge herself into the glass of one dress merchant's display window. "So you do have a sense of humor. And here I was thinking you were dull. What a surprise that a human being really does lurk somewhere inside of you! I simply meant that she saves that kind of excitement for armor and swords. Not… _Dresses_."

"Perhaps your Ferelden dresses are nothing to become excited about?" Ambrose shrugged and walked over to Elissa, smiling. "Do you like it, _Mon Ce'aire_?"

"It's… beguiling. My friend, Leliana, told me about this kind of stuff but never, in my wildest dreams, had I imagined she wasn't exaggerating. And you call this city a township?" she murmured as hugged the glass and ogled the glittering layers of silk, brocade and the scattering of beaded lace. The dress was colorful as well, a tasteful teal and blue waterfall of fabric that sparkled with crystals and beads. "Where would a lady wear such a gown?" she asked, almost to herself.

Ambrose leaned in close to her, inhaling the scent of her skin and pleasuring his senses on her nearness. Her hair had the most appealing fragrance that was uniquely her. "Mmm. You would wear this gown anywhere you wanted. It's not a _common_ gown for certain, but a noblewoman would wear it to go to dinner, meet with friends or perhaps to be wooed. The bodice suggests flirtation and sexual appeal. You would look like a man's fantasy come to life in such a dress. Or any dress for that matter…" He came very close to kissing her then. It was hard not to.

She blushed and ducked away from him, pretending to spot something new across the street. Alistair strolled up to Ambrose, arms tucked behind his back and a blond eyebrow lifted in warning. "You'd best watch yourself, my friend. The time for revenge is done. You can stop teasing… or flirting with her now."

The innocent look on Ambrose's face did not fool Alistair. "Who says I am doing either?" he asked.

"I do. And I don't like it. Obviously, neither does she. Watch what you do with her, Ambrose. Don't do anything… foolish. Got it?"

"Obviously, you are jealous. Are you afraid that she will, shall I say, acquiesce should I offer her a space in my bed?"

Alistair looked worried as he watched after her. "I may be jealous… but… No, I am not afraid of that happening. I am certain of it."

Ambrose nodded sagely and looked at Alistair with concern reflected in his clear, blue eyes. "So. I am not the only one who has this impression. For a moment, I feared it was only my ego. What would happen if, say, she should make that decision?"

It was an impossible question, one that left Alistair filled with worry. What if she did decide want Ambrose in the same way she had wanted the elfin prostitute? He didn't have an answer and said so with a slow shake of his head. "Frankly, it's not my decision to make for her and it isn't yours either so don't you go making suggestions!"

A reply that Alistair was not expecting at all erupted from Ambrose's chest like a rumble of cheerful thunder. Brows drawn close in a deep scowl, Alistair grabbed Ambrose by his cloak with both hands, bringing the chuckling Orlesian's face very close to his. "This isn't funny!"

"Relax! Mon ve'erte, relax. I find it merely amusing that you are so concerned about a simple act of physical pleasure. Your wife loves you in the way that flowers love their soil. Without soil, the flower cannot grow and become the beautiful thing it is. But, in lesser amounts, it also needs rain and sun. Without those, it becomes a sad thing. You are soil and other men, other experiences are simply the rain and the sun. They are Important but not as important as you. Do you sincerely believe that Elissa would abandon you for my side? I already have a wife, Mon ve'erte. I most certainly do not need another wife, especially not one belonging to a man I consider my friend. However, if she should ask for it, and were I to accept, would I, ah, be permitted to remain intact?"

Alistair glared up at the taller man, his eyes narrowed suspiciously."Maybe. It depends on the circumstances. I might geld you out of spite if I see fit. Just don't go making it easy for her."

"And why do you think she would be attracted to one such as me? I'm no prize, if you're judging by appearance. I'm half-again her age… I'm not as physically built as most. And I'm a bit rude at times," Ambrose said softly. He was really very flattered that Alistair thought Elissa would have him if he desired her. But he wondered why. It didn't make sense, not even to him. Quiet, sad, introverted, scarred and on the brink of doing something he already regretted, Ambrose saw nothing to be appreciated about himself. But she was a ray of light and a stunning beauty that made him believe in love again. She made him believe in himself again. There were so many reasons to adore the feisty Templar-gifted Warden Queen.

The younger Grey Warden shook his head though he suggested that the "rudeness" might be a symptom of Ambrose just being Orlesian. "You'd have to ask her," he replied softly. Ambrose nodded thoughtfully as he watched Elissa hand something to a child and begin making her way back through the snow-covered lane.

Soon, Elissa rejoined the men as excited as ever and eager to go shopping but the shops and stalls were closing as a snowy darkness replaced the bright cheer of dusk. Foot traffic had dropped off considerably as well. Ambrose showed Alistair the expensive inn he'd mentioned and Ferelden's King nodded. "I'll get two rooms. You can pay me back."

"Non," Ambrose replied with a shake of his head. "I prefer less ostentatious lodging. I will seek it near the housing area just outside the merchant's quarter. There is a quaint place there where the people know me and always have room."

The look Alistair and his wife shared was one of astonishment. "Ambrose, you're a Grey Warden. You have the right to enjoy a little ostentation once in a while. I lived in a barn for most of my childhood but you don't see me shying away from what my sovereigns can afford me."

"As it is your choice but it is not my own. I prefer to live beneath my means."

"Suit yourself!" Alistair said with a grin. "I will return soon. My love, are you coming?"

Elissa shook her head and kissed his lips softly. "I need to chat with 'Ser Stick in the Mud'. Meet us in that eatery over there by the fountain. I'm famished!" Alistair kissed her again and then grabbed both their packs and weapons and headed up to the large, elegant Inn. Once alone with Ambrose, Elissa touched his hand and gestured to "The Flightless Sparrow". Ambrose had suggested the place for dinner soon upon arrival to the city and they headed there quickly. The chill had increased as the snowfall decreased and Elissa yearned for a table by the fireplace she saw rising above the small place, exhaling out smoke from its chimney.

Once inside, seated at the (second) warmest table in the house (a large, grey-haired dwarf was passed out and his massive body sprawled across two chairs by the fireplace itself), they ordered hot mulled wine and a plate of fried sweet potatoes. "Now that we are alone, I have a question."

"Go on."

"What was that kiss about?" she asked. Ambrose resorted to blinking his eyes innocently in a way that must have gotten him far before he knew Ferelden. "Don't even try that innocent game with me," she muttered into her mug, her eyes up on his face.

He shrugged, a gesture he used often instead of words. "It was vengeance, nothing more. Tat for tit, if you will. I was trying to give back some of the discomfort you offered me."

That got her attention. "I made you uncomfortable? How did I do that?"

"You know exactly how you did that! You are a lovely woman with an amazing body. You are physically… breathtaking. Especially your breasts. You showed them to me and would not cover up. That made me uncomfortable."

"Aww. You poor baby! Did I shred your pathetic male sensibilities?" she said in a mocking tone of voice similar to how one would speak to a baby.

Ambrose frowned irritably. He really hated being mocked. "Non! It was _not_ my, 'pathetic male sensibilities' you made uncomfortable."

She leaned forward, her chin on her palm and her teal eyes alight with mischief. "Oh? And what then did I make uncomfortable?"

"My… breeches."

It came out, "mah… britches" in his thick accent. Elissa giggled. "Are you implying that you are so well-endowed that your breeches became too _tight_?" she laughed, raising her mug for more mulled wine. It was quickly refilled and just as quickly consumed. She rather liked the idea behind her accusation.

He shook his head. "Non. Endowed or otherwise, I am a man and when men are given the gift of a woman's amazing physique to gaze upon in the flesh, it causes certain _reactions_. Thus, my breeches became uncomfortable."

Elissa leaned forward, her teal eyes glittering dangerously in the golden firelight behind Ambrose's chair. "So… Are you?"

Ambrose leaned back in his chair, a thick eyebrow raised and his fingers curled around the stem of a wine goblet. He sipped from it carefully before asking, "Am I what?"

"That well endowed?" she asked in a voice that was almost a purr. The older Grey Warden struggled to stay cool. He knew that the question was born not of Elissa's curiosity but of the mulled wine. He knew it was made with Brandy.

"Before I answer that, there is something you should know. First, the mulled wine is spiked with brandy so you may not be thinking clearly. In fact, I believe you are getting drunk. And number two, I told your husband earlier that the next time you flirt with me like you did last night, I will _take you_." The words "take you" were spoken in a low, sexy voice that emphasized the intent behind them. Combined with his exotic accent, it had a frightening effect on her that she found utterly thrilling.

"Take… me?" she asked in a small voice. She found herself getting a thrill from it.

"_Take you_," he confirmed.

"And what if I don't wish to be… taken?"

He shrugged and sipped from his glass. "Depends on how you resist me. You see, I know the difference between 'non!' and 'non-non-non'," he explained in a matter of fact tone.

Elissa leaned back, her teal eyes narrow slits as she considered what he said. "What is the difference?" she asked.

Ambrose swirled the wine around in his cup and smiled slyly. "Non! is very firm, very direct aversion to my advances. It's usually accompanied by hitting, kicking and the occasional slap. I can be injured. So, I respect 'Non!', as I do have a very strong sense of self-preservation. 'Non-non-non' is more coy. The voice says no, the body says yes. The woman yields to my touch even though she says she doesn't want it. If she yields, I _take her_. It's very simple."

The smirk on Elissa's blushed face was coy as she appraised him with a raised eyebrow. "You sound like you have a lot of experience in this."

He sipped his wine and shrugged as he smiled handsomely at her from the lip of his goblet. Though far from "pretty", as Elissa tended to think of Alistair, Ambrose could soften his harsh appearance by changing his expression and his personality. Indeed, the man gazing warmly over the lip of his cup with bright, blue eyes as he rocked in his chair was a far cry from the ugly, pompous Orlesian who had shouted at her upon their first meeting. He was very charming when he wanted to be and there was a palpable sensuality to him that spoke volumes. She was inexplicably drawn to him and knew that if he ever gave her the opportunity, she would let him "take" her. "I like women," he said simply. "Sometimes, they do not like me. I have learned how to discern the two."

"So then…do you like me?" she asked. Was she flirting with him? Unbelievable!

His answer was pure honey to her ears as he breathed, "more than you know and more than I should, _Mon Ce'aire_." She blushed deeply.

"And…are you?"

"Ahh. Back to the question of my endowment, are we? Very well. I suppose I can answer without disrobing and showing more than is appropriate considering the circumstances. You see that?" he said, gesturing with his middle finger lifted from the cup in his hand to the wooden salt shaker on the table. As he gestured, the barmaid came around and filled his cup with wine and took Elissa's drained mug.

Elissa looked at it. Maybe five or six inches tall and roughly one and a half to two inches around, it was a basic polished wood salt shaker commonly seen in moderately-priced restaurants and taverns. She looked at him, unimpressed that he was referencing salt shakers. "Yes? It's a salt shaker."

"Pick it up, hold it in your hand and wrap your fingers around it. And squeeze. Now, add about three inches and make the bulbous top a more appropriate conical shape. That is roughly _me_. I _might_ be exaggerating a bit but that's about as close to it without pulling out the real thing." Ambrose had no problems showing it to her but Alistair would be returning soon and he really didn't want to lose any teeth tonight.

Her eyes widened as she wrapped her hand around the shaker, her fingers tightly embracing the wooden cylinder, imagining it was made of flesh but almost as hard as wood. Her mouth watered and she found herself growing warm. Her body was reacting as well and she realized that, because of him, she would never again be able to look at salt-shakers the same way again. A look at Ambrose revealed a man greatly impressed with himself as he gazed smugly across the table at her. His smile was a mere lift of the right side of his lips but it said much and improved his looks further. His gleaming topaz eyes seemed to be laughing at her. "I…have to go outside…and cool off. Bastard." Ambrose laughed at her as he watched her retreat.

A moment later, Alistair arrived. He spotted the table almost immediately and made his way there. He had stripped out of his heavy armor and was now wearing a simple set of leather armor designed more for protection from the cold than blows. "Ambrose, is this Elissa's seat? Where is she?"

As Ambrose was poised to answer, Elissa walked in, the hair around her red cheeks wet. There was snow on the front of her furred coat. She shot daggers at Ambrose as she came around to kiss Alistair on the mouth. She marveled at how easy it was for her to playfully tease one man and then adoringly recline in the lap of the man she considered her soul mate. Whether that was good or bad, she didn't know but the desire to taste flesh belonging to another was strong in her. "Did you get us a room?"

Alistair nodded. "We have plenty of funds on hand thanks to your trip to Amaranthine and those jobs you did afterward without dipping into the treasury. I got us a fine room at what I consider a reasonable rate. And I have a surprise for you."

She looped her arms around his neck and waited eagerly. "Well?"

"We're attending a Masquerade! It's supposed to be the annual winter bash. I thought it would be fun for us. I have the tickets here."

Ambrose stared, snapping his blue eyes from king to queen and back. "When? Tonight?"

Alistair's own eyes hardened and he clenched his fist. "Tomorrow night. We are paid up for three days."

"NO! You fool! We have a deadline and we must adhere…" the Orlesian began.

"Fine! You go, if you're so worried. We are staying. Elissa and the baby need a break, Ambrose. I'm sorry. It's final." There was no arguing with Alistair when he was like this. Evidently, he'd thought a great deal on it and made up his mind easily. Elissa hugged him, grateful for the respite. Ahh. This was why married him.

Ambrose was furious but he kept an unusual grip on his emotions until they had run their course. Eventually, he bowed his head in defeat and looked away. If they had been wolves, Alistair would have won the dominance challenge. He almost felt shamed but kept the thought to himself.

The young king reached across the table and rapped on it with his knuckles. "Hey. I was wondering if you could help us with what we should wear to this thing tomorrow. And meet us there?"

Ambrose leaned back. "You want me to assist you with dressing? What is the theme?"

"Theme? Uh…"

"Ticket. Hand me a ticket. There should be information about what the theme is on the ticket. Rarely do the more expensive Orlesian masquerades not have a theme. Hm… Oh my! Did the person selling you the ticket not explain _anything_ to you?"

Alistair blinked across the table at him. "Not much. Just stated the price, asked me how many and told us to show up separately. And reminded me to 'dress appropriately'. Is there a problem?" He was worried because Ambrose was still laughing at him.

Still chuckling, the Orlesian shrugged as he usually did when asked questions. "Well, the intent of this masquerade is specifically 'clandestine encounters' between men and women. Or same-sex if that is your preference. The rules state that masks stay in place until half-way through the dance and men should be clean-shaven to avoid early detection of current friends, partners and lovers etcetera. It is supposed to be rather, ah, adult. They're not for children anyway but this one could rather…liberating for you both! I would be happy to help you find something suitable though I won't stick around to see what you have chosen. Should I wish to make an appearance, it would be unfair of me to know what you arrive in if you do not know what I am dressed as."

The blood drained from Alistair's cheeks as he considered Ambrose's words.

"Crap…"

The lightness continues in "Orlesian Masquerade"


	21. Chapter 21

**Tainted Dreams**

**Part 21**

**Lead Her Not Unto Temptation…**

The next morning, the sun greeted them bright and early. It was bitterly cold but clear with a few inches of new snow left from the storm the night before. It was blindingly beautiful, as beautiful as the woman in Alistair's arms, her skin like alabaster and her eyes like a deep ocean tide. He stroked her fiery locks with his hand and smiled when she pressed close against him. He pressed his lips to her forehead before kissing that perfect red pout of hers. Her tongue flicked against his mouth and she opened wide, inviting his deep kiss. Wet and wonderful, they embraced mouths for a wonderful eternity. This woman was everything he could have dreamed of and she was worth anything, everything in the world to hold onto. If he had to share her for a night or two, it would be worth it. He would survive.

Alistair laid her out onto her back and kissed her neck, her up-turned throat and shoulders. The chill in the air teased her skin, causing goose-flesh to ripple delightfully along the surface of her otherwise smooth skin. He lovingly ran his fingers along the surface, grinning as she giggled and playfully told him to stop. He didn't, of course. His fingers traced playful swirls on her breasts, teasing her hard nipples, dark against her pale skin. She moaned, shivering with excitement as his touch ignited her desire for him. Her hands pressed against his face and she ran her fingers through his short blond hair. She pulled his head down against her breasts where his lips and tongue teased her. His lips trailed lower, lower until he found his way to the place she wanted them most.

The most wonderful thing about pleasuring Elissa was that she was far from quiet. She cried out, moaned, squealed, giggled and yelped when she was being brought to her peak. Her hands would grab his head and her legs would lock around his neck and tighten when he was getting close. Her back arched, her fingers gripped him hard, pushing his face deeper into her. And when she came, she came with a kind of explosion of wetness and excited squealing. He loved it, reveled in it and cherished every happy sound she made. At about her third climax, he swept in and merged his heavily muscled body with hers, pulling her arms and legs around him. A few thrusts were all it took to bring them both to a delightful end of the morning ritual and his moans joined the echoes of her orgasm.

They curled up in each other's arms, nuzzling and talking softly about nonsensical things and barely heard the soft knock at the door. It grew louder. Irritated, Alistair jumped from the bed, holding the sheet to his waist and left Elissa grinning, and naked, behind him on the bed. He opened it and Ambrose pushed his way in, chastising Alistair for being late. "You told me a time to meet downstairs and I was there but you were not and… I feel…that… Maker's Breath…" he murmured as he spotted Elissa, naked with her hair disheveled on the bed. She had made no effort to cover herself, something which had an immediate effect on Ambrose's body and soul. He simply could not tear his eyes away. Alistair sighed and ripped the sheet from his hips, throwing it at her. She caught it, laughing.

Alistair was stark naked, standing there, his body still aroused and gleaming with sweat. Ambrose averted his eyes but the alternative was equally naked and doing a poor job of covering herself. "You barge in, you suffer the consequences. My wife is, as I'm sure you guessed a tease and has no modesty whatsoever. Elissa, behave! And you, Ambrose, stop staring. I know she's amazing but… Ah, fade take me. You're smitten as I was the first time she and I became lovers." Alistair shook his head at Ambrose's rueful grin and went into the generously sized private bathing room for a robe.

The tall Orlesian walked around the room, trying to look at anything, everything save the extraordinary woman perched on her perfect, round bottom in the large bed. She was covered only in the front by the folds of the large, white sheet. She was holding it to her breasts, her eyes following him as he moved around the room. Her back was completely bare and it was hard for him not to stare at the slight curve of her spine as it dipped into the crevasse of her perfectly proportioned derriere. Two delightful dimples beckoned to him just above the swells of creamy, white flesh that whispered promises of passion to him.

He shook his head and concentrated on the room. It wasn't lavish by any means, not by Orlesian standards, anyway. Certainly, it was spacious with a fireplace, a large bed, armoire, a table with three chairs and an antique couch but he'd seen grander in this Inn. This was almost an economy room. Granted, it did have the private bathing room with built-in hot and cold pumps for the double occupancy tub and a practical toilet but beyond that, it was just a larger version of any other room. It did have nice curtains though…

His eyes then drifted back to the bed where Elissa still sat on her knees, her long-lashed teal eyes peering back at him from over her smooth shoulder. One brow was arched and she was grinning at him. His breathing faltered and he stared. "Hmm. You're peeking, Ambrose," she reminded him softly. He grunted and shrugged out of the heavy leather coat he arrived in.

It took her a moment to realize she was looking up at the same man she'd been traveling with this whole time. Gone were his dirty black leathers. They had been replaced with a sexy black vest, strapped to him with numerous decorative silver buckles, form-fitting black leather breeches that laced up the crotch (and bulged oh-so impressively there) and black doe-skin boots that looked as warm as they must have been soft. Under the vest, he was wearing a fine, linen shirt opened loosely under the collar-bone, giving a charming hint of black and grey-dusted chiseled chest. It had long, open sleeves that draped almost to his long-fingered, fine-boned hands. At his throat were two chains. One, elfin sliver, disappeared completely into the shirt and the other was a simple, elegant chain of intricate red-gold links.

His swords were strapped to his back and thick cuffs of heavy, laced black leather adorned each wrist. His black hair, as usual was pulled back away from his face. He looked like he'd shaved as a lot of the scruffy growth from the past several days was gone or neatly trimmed. His beard was immaculate. She noted a bit of grey in his whiskers and at the temples but his hair held most of the black color well for his age. He was suddenly quite pleasing to look at and she caught herself earning that sly half-grin as he caught her staring appreciatively up at him. She blushed.

He leaned over her as he draped the coat about her shoulders, brushed his lips against the place on her neck just behind her ear, close to the shoulder and murmured, "Remember, Mon ce'aire… I _take you_…" She closed her eyes and shivered at the touch, the caress of his voice and watched him as he patted Alistair on the shoulder. "Downstairs as soon as you both can dress. There is much to do today."

"What did you say to her?" Ferelden's king asked sharply.

Ambrose chuckled and walked out, leaving them alone with Alistair blinking his eyes as the man retreated. He stopped about half-way down the hall, as if just remembering something and retraced his steps as Alistair was closing the door. "One more thing… Wear something comfortable, both of you, that will be easy to remove..." his eyes flirted with Elissa's shapely hip as it flowed into the curve of her bent thigh. The creamy side of her right breast was bare. He ignored Alistair's chagrined expression as his eyes drank in her every sensual curve and he added, "…something, I think, that should be easy for you, _Mon Ce'aire_." She smiled in return and stretched her slender body across the bed, the sheet barely covering her body slipping and revealing more for his eyes to consume. He winked at her as he turned and left back the way he came.

When he was gone, Alistair watched Elissa slither out of the bed and walk gracefully into the bathroom. Her hips swayed provocatively, teasing him. He reacted immediately and followed her. She started pumping hot water into the tub as her husband came up behind her, his hands on her hips, the robe open. "What did he say to you?" he asked her.

She smiled over her shoulder as she added cold water to the tub. "Promise not to hurt him if I tell you?" she asked.

He shrugged. "You're going to sleep with him sooner or later so I guess I shouldn't worry about being particularly jealous."

"You don't know that. I _am_ a married woman, after all," she chided.

Alistair laughed and ran his hands along the smooth skin of her bottom and up her back. He bent over her, cupping both her breasts in his hands and sensuously kissed her back, her shoulders and neck. "Hunh. You've been undressing the man since we left Ferelden. He gained a personality and all of a sudden, you become a little vixen anytime you get near him. Then he shows up in that outfit and… Well, I guess I can understand why. It's kind of fun to watch, actually. So. What did he say?"

She arched her back as his hands found new ways to excite her. He then did something she had never experienced in all the time they were together; he left a mark on her with his mouth. It hurt as he did it on the back of her neck, near the hairline and almost where Ambrose kissed her. She found it thrilling and he found it surprising. Shivering, she tossed her hair and smiled back at him. "He reminded me that if I continue to tease him… He'll _'take'_ me."

" He said, 'I'll take you?'" Alistair replied.

"Yes but deeper, sexier, accented Orlesian…"

"_I'll take you_…" he said, imitating their friend very accurately. Elissa nodded and rubbed her bottom against his loins. "Mmmhmmm… You'll _take_ me?"

Alistair bent her over the tub and did indeed, take her. He wasn't gentle about it, either. The passion that arose between them in that moment was primal and raw, like a fire out of control. It was release and excitement and left them both breathless, laying in the bathtub together, arms and legs entwined in the hot water. "Maker's breath, but you are amazing. I've said this before but I really am a _lucky_ man," he murmured into her red hair.

"I love you too…" she told him.

* * *

They two went downstairs to meet Ambrose, who was sitting at a table in the dining room of the Inn. He was daintily sipping something hot from a small cup and scowled as they approached. He muttered something foul in Orlesian and set the cup down on the little plate in front of him. He indicated with a sweep of his hand that they should sit. Pastries were laid out in a heap on the center of the table as well as a heavy metal carafe holding more of the hot liquid along with two small cups. He poured it for them and offered honey and cream. "What is it?" Elissa asked, sniffing it. She then handed Ambrose his heavy leather coat with a smile of thanks. It was smelled very masculine with scents of wood and spice, evergreen and, of course, leather. His scent was as complex as he was and very much to her liking.

"Jafe'," Ambrose answered. "It's a bit bitter to the uninitiated palette but it stirs the senses and awakens you more fully. Taken with honey and cream, the bitterness is cut and the flavor can be truly enjoyed. Dip a pastry into the jafe' and taste. Perfect!" He watched intently as Alistair and Elissa did as he asked and was rewarded by their expressions. Doubtful at first, their eyes soon widened and they both nodded vigorously. "Now tell me, _Mon ver'tes_… Do you have any idea what a schedule is? Perhaps you have no concept of time? We should have been done here an hour ago!"

Elissa grinned slyly at him from of the cup of her hot jafe' and said, "Hm. I had to take a few moments to appreciate my husband; every… last… _inch_… of him." She licked the cream filling that oozed from the edge of her pastry with a slow, seductive flick of her tongue. Alistair blushed and Ambrose narrowed his eyes, his skin flushed but a smile teasing the one corner of his mouth.

"I will show you the shops you are to visit. Arrangements for hair, face, costumes and masks have all been made. We will meet for lunch right before Elissa does her final coif and cosmetique so that you may bid farewell prior to the party," Ambrose said as he plucked a frosted pastry from the plate.

Alistair licked his fingers before wiping them on a towel. "Will you be coming?"

"Non. Eh. Maybe. I don't know. My wife and I conceived our daughter at a masquerade like this without knowing who we were. It was quite funny because we had gone to seduce others and instead, ended up with each other. Nine months later, a girl was born. I doubt my wife would have allowed another man to take her, anyway. The party was my idea to get her to open up a bit more, especially her legs. It probably was not coincidence that we wound up together. And before you accuse me of insensitivity to her plight, Alistair, know that she agreed it was a good idea and maybe some fun would be had. Alas, it did nothing for us save to give us another child."

Once breakfast was finished, the trio of Grey Wardens struck out into the frosty air. Elissa was bundled up like some kind of short bear, the fur blown this way and that by the wind. All you could see of her were her eyes and that was only when her red bangs didn't get in the way. Alistair, dressed in a simple wool tunic and breeches covered by a heavy, fur-lined winter coat, trudged on along beside her through the drifting, blowing snow. The sky was clear and the day brisk but the previous night's snow did nothing to slow the numbers of people shopping, chatting and walking about on their daily business.

If the city of Lydes was awe-inspiring at dusk, by day is was a veritable tapestry of activity and color. The women especially were bedecked in all manner of finery and feathers and bright hues. Alistair noted the presence of decorative cod-pieces protruding from the front of men's coats and blushed while the current fashion for women's dress made him blush deeper still. As Elissa had said about the dress in the window, today's styles were practically scandalous. No decent God-fearing Ferelden would be caught dead in some of it. Which meant, of course, that he loved every last bit of it. As they traveled through the streets, Ambrose was their informative guide, offering tips and making suggestions as they went along.

Finally, they stopped before a boutique. "So, you said you made…arrangements? When did you have the time to do that?" Alistair asked Ambrose before Elissa, giddy with excitement, went inside the warm shop.

The Orlesian shrugged. "I have many…connections I can call upon here. Many of the merchants owe me favors for my mercenary work. So, I can safely call on them to assist me when I wish it. I started planning our trip last night and into this morning while you were…_waking up_. My office is here as well. On that last street, some blocks down. I'll show it to you later. For now, we have to get Elissa a dress, you some finery, masks and… Ah! You will both be magnificent!"

Alistair laid a hand on Ambrose's shoulder and gazed up into the taller man's blue eyes. "The cost for all of this…how will we repay you?"

With another noncommittal shrug, Ambrose grinned. "The cost to me is minimal. I have friends in the places you need them and so, I use what I have to assist you both in having a truly Orlesian experience. There is nothing like it. The only true costs are the clothes, which I can easily afford. Now, Elissa, Chelen is waiting. Alistair, you come with me… There is _much_ to be done!"

Elissa was sequestered in the back of a walled-off portion of the shop where she was told to strip down completely by a portly, middle-aged woman with graying red hair. She was curt and business-like as she measured every curve, every angle, and every width of Elissa's petite, tightly-muscled physique. She was athletic with clearly define musculature that was powerful yet graceful and very feminine. Chelen asked a few questions in very thickly accented Fereldan, mostly dealing with Elissa's obvious pregnancy. At five months, she was clearly showing but small enough that Chelen was confident it could be completely and utterly well-hidden. She was constantly bringing out materials and comparing them to Elissa's pale skin and against other fabrics. She was fast on her feet and barked terse commands at her elfin helpers, who scurried to handle their tasks. At one point, she was given a mug of hot jafe' sweetened with honey and tempered with cream. In the cold air of the shop, she was thankful for the rush of warmth the drink gave her.

Eventually, a corset was brought out and tied snugly to Elissa's torso. It was heavy teal lace with boning designed in such a way that it flowed gracefully from her chest, where special half-cups embraced and provocatively lifted her large breasts. It stopped just under the nipples, which were left bare, erect and protruding above the satin-lined lace. The remainder flowed down, cinching her waist and curving around her hips. The effect was startling. By lifting her breasts high, smoothing out the bump in her middle, and narrowing her waist, Chelen had effectively erased the pregnancy with a simple, if modestly uncomfortable article of clothing. That left Elissa standing in only the corset and nothing else.

Twice, Chelen pinched Elissa's nipples, pulling them over the cups supporting her breasts, without an explanation. The final time she did it, it was to place an ornate spiraling band of rhinestone-encrusted metal around each nipple and set flush against her dark areolas. The contrast between the dark red-brown of the sensitive skin there and the silvery material with its sparkling stones was eye-catching. Elissa was stunned by them. They enhanced the look of her bare breasts by adding a bit of decorative color and sizzle to them. She rather liked them as she watched them glitter in the mirror. "Von, von! If you sink zey are stunning, imagine what ze men will sink! Ahn ze women will be zo jealous, zey will not know what to do!" Chelen giggled proudly.

By lunch, she had Elissa wearing the corset and glittery stockings clipped to buckles dangling from the corset's lower part. They were sheer black lace and studded with more tiny rhinestones. She tried in vain to get Elissa to forgo panties all together but finally allowed a tiny pair of black lace ones with a single strap that ran up the valley between the cheeks of her bottom. They had no crotch and even with them on, over the garter straps, she felt utterly nude.

Because the dress was not yet complete, the boutique owner instructed her to return after her coif and cosmetique and it would be ready then. For the meantime, she would wear the simple, plain dress she'd worn there.

With the corset, her figure took on a startling new shape and her higher breasts and obvious nipples made her look far more sensuous than the high-necked dress was designed for. It also made her walk straighter, taller and more sensually. That meant that when she met her husband and Ambrose at the little eatery they'd eaten dinner at the night before, the two men couldn't tear their eyes off of her. Alistair even reached out and fondled her right there, in the restaurant with Ambrose gazing at her as he did it. She giggled and batted away his hand. "Silly. Stop that! You've never been that brave before. What's got into you?"

"I don't know! You're just so… Something is different. You're wearing something that's taken and changed you just enough that I want to see what's under there," came her husband's excited reply.

Grinning, Ambrose said, "It is a corset, Alistair. It makes subtle, yet fascinating alterations to perfect a woman's physique so that she more closely resembles the ideal that we men prefer. The effect is mesmerizing. Were we to see the item itself, no matter how many times you have see your wife's perfect body in the flesh, we would both be her thralls, subject to her every whim and desire. Indeed, I wonder what _else_ lurks under that unassuming smock, yes?" Elissa blushed and tried to use food to cover her embarrassment.

It wasn't only her two companions who were eyeing her as she ate. Other men had begun to notice her as well, causing Ambrose and Alistair to reflexively reach for their weapons. "Okay, fellows, that is quite enough. I am fully capable of taking out every man in this establishment by myself. Which reminds me, I need to get going. I have a lot more to do." She finished her lunch and carefully rose from the table.

Ambrose rose as well, reaching for her chair in the same motion and pulled it out for her. "Alistair, I will escort her to the coiffure and cosmetique. They are close-by. Will you allow me?"

Her husband nodded but wagged a finger at the tall Warden as he offered Alistair's queen his arm. "Don't you try anything. I'm onto you," he half-jokingly warned Ambrose. The Orlesian laughed and escorted her out into the street.

They walked arm-in-arm for several shops, turned a corner and stopped. Ambrose then leaned forward, pulled her limply into his arms and kissed her passionately, softly, teasingly, slowly until she could hardly keep her feet under her. Any thoughts of protest died with the kiss's magic cast upon her body. Through his leather pants, she could feel his need and shuddered with a need of her own. "Hmm. He was right. You are certainly a woman of insatiable desire and you really _are_ attracted to me. I'm genuinely flattered."

"Am-Ambrose, what you just did… Why did I enjoy it so much? Shouldn't I want to at least smack you for being so brazen? I'm Ferelden's queen, you know," she said softly.

He laughed and pulled her back into his embrace. "Yes, yes and the Great Hero of Ferelden and all of that. Ah, but inside, you are still just a woman. Why did you enjoy what you know you ought not to have enjoyed so?" He leaned in and repeated the kiss again but this time, he kept it sensual; a flurry of soft lips lightly grazing her own. "Because I am not _him_." He pushed her gently away from him and, hands on her shoulders, he pointed at a sign featuring a mirror and brush. It was called, "Le Sensualique Coif", "The Sensual Hair or Hair-do" depending on how it was translated. "Go. Cosmetique is three shops down on the left. You will not see me again. Unless I desire it."

"Will you… desire it?" she asked him shyly.

"But of course! But I like surprises too much to allow you know when or where I might pop up. Make yourself stunning, _Mon ce'aire_… as if you need much help doing that, eh? Heh heh."

She watched him leave with a smile on her lips as she walked up the steps to get her hair done.

To be continued…


	22. Chapter 22

**Tainted Dreams**

**Chapter 22**

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_There's some sexy, sensual suggestions and some scenes that may make the homo-prudes cringe. Again, as usual, mature audiences. The imitation french accent is brought to you by my over-active imagination. Read it phonetically, if you dare... Thank you Carrie and my friend Deidra for all your continued support and assistance. Thank you, Debbie for the idea. And thank you Readers for, well, reading. I love your comments and I appreciate your continued readership of this wild story. Bioware? This is all YOUR fault!_

_A Final Note here: There will be descriptions in the next chapter that are not suitable for audiences. As a courtesy, I will write two versions: an M version for here and an MA version through a link to another website for you to enjoy. The descriptions are in no way necessary to the continuity of the story but give a depth and feel to the story that I would like to explore more deeply. It is also the last time to figuratively "play" before things get... Complicated. Thank you._

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**The Lover's Ball**

**The Masquerade Part 1**

Elissa stood before the full-length mirror gazing at her reflection. She didn't recognize the woman she saw there, even without the bird-mask. To start, her hair had been layered with additional pieces neatly snapped into her own natural red locks. They were in shades of sunny gold, vivid orange and scarlet. They were then piled and spiked on her head like feathers. More layers and extensions cascaded down her back and across her shoulder. All over, there were glittery rhinestone pins that caught the light as well as keeping the layers and the fiery up-do in place. A feathered aigrette in flame-hues of teal, red and gold adorned one side of her head. At its center was a cabochon of rich red embraced by an oval of clear, sparkling crystals.

Next, her face was ornately and elegantly doctored with cosmetics. Glittery golden eye-shadow reached up to her eyebrows, which had been adorned with crystals and feathers in shades of flame. All around her eyes, dark kohl gave a darkly exotic appearance to them and enhanced the bright teal of her irises. Her lashes had been enhanced with extremely long, thick fake lashes, somehow glued for an added feminine effect and crystals were glued to the outer edges of her eyes along her lashes. Her cheeks were bronzed and given some darker, redder tones in the hollows under the bones and by her hair-line. Her lips were lined in a deep red and filled in with a sparkling scarlet gloss that picked up every beam of light and returned it. The overall effect was a pretty red pout that dazzled.

If her face and hair were striking, her dress stole the show. Her pregnancy was only about five months in and she was clearly showing. She was wearing a corset that dramatically narrowed her waist and lifted her breasts high, thereby lengthening her waist and making the bump less visible. To further hide her belly, a delightful plume of flame-colored feathers sprayed out across her middle and met a high slit at the top of her slender thigh. The long, multi-layered skirts were asymmetrical and of varying lengths in shades of red and gold, like the rest of her ensemble.

The bodice was playful , the top meeting upper edge of the corset just under her pert red nipples. They protruded through a teasing scattering of playful red and gold feathers. Her dark areolas were adorned with a glittering spiral of crystal-encrusted gold that drew they eye right to her large breasts. A single strap of colorful feathers stretched across from under her right arm, above her breasts and over the left shoulder where it reached across her muscular back and connected to the back of the dress. Her hips were feathered as well with a large plume in the back that flowed behind her in the same shades as the rest of her flame-hued gown but with additional purple, teal and white feathers to contrast with the red. All over glittered crystals that shone like tiny pin-points of light.

Though Elissa was fairly petite as warriors went, her legs were long and muscular. The right leg was exposed to the hip and adorned in a thigh-high sheer scarlet stocking bedecked with thousands of sparkling crystals. From the corset hung garters to which the stockings were attached. Like the corset, it was teal. She had chosen to forgo the panties. After all, the only option was a pair without a crotch and made of sheer lace. Playful but useless and considering the amount of pressure applied to her bladder, courtesy of the baby and the corset, it would be better not to have to deal with panties at all.

Her shoes were playful slippers in glittery teal and gold that laced up her calves. Yellow feathers fluffed up from the toes and the heels were high but were not difficult to move in. She thought she would fall on her face when she first saw them but the heels were fat, stable posts rather than precarious spikes. They were adorable as well as being remarkably comfortable.

The final touch was a fantastic mask resembling the face of a bird. It had strategically placed combs used to anchor the mask into her coif. It had feathers, many man feathers about the eyes and "head" in shades of gold, red and orange with a few teal as well, especially around the eyes. The hooked beak was painted with brushed gold.

"'Tule Lind'," the Dressmaker, Chelen, said with a smile. "'Firebird'. You are my Firebird. Zees drez waz dezined for ze empress some six years ago for ze zame ball. Howevair, her lovair, ze' king of Farelden, he waz murdaired most horrifically by hees friend. Most unfortunate. Now ze drez getz a zecond life weese you, _Mon cir_."

The blood drained from Elissa's beautiful face. "You mean King Cailan was supposed to marry Celene?" she asked, incredulous.

"Von, von. Perhaps eet ees why Fareldan's hero betrayed ze king, no? Perhaps he found out? Eet would be a peety, no? Ah well. Pazt ees pazt and you cannot change it anymore zan you can change your eye colare. Though, geeve Cosmetiqe a chanze and he weel find a way! Wheech reminds me… I have somesing for you." The plump little woman ran off and grabbed a feathered bag, which resembled Elissa's costume. "Eet haz cosmetiques for you if you deziare a touch up or more, _Mon cir_. And here…" She sprayed Elissa with a puff of some exotic frangrance that started off strong but as it faded, smelled intensely erotic. "Parfume wiz a bit of somesing to attract ze boyz and make you even more alluring zan you already are. Ah! You are mah masterpiece! If but I could only captiar zees moment. Ahh well. Ze carriage arriveze zoon! Are you ready?"

Elissa nodded, donned the mask and pulled on the heavy furred coat as she stepped outside the shop and waited, teeth chattering, in the bitter cold for the carriage that would transport her to the ball. She shivered perhaps out of fear or excitement or perhaps just the cold. Or was she shivering in for all three? Her breasts had never been this bare in a public setting and never had she gone anywhere in public without wearing panties. There was a very real concern that she might end up in a strange man's arms or perhaps Alistair's or even perhaps…even Ambrose's. Thought of ending up in a stranger's arms, as terrifying as it was, was also deeply arousing. The thought of making love to Ambrose, though, sent chills down her spine. She felt her body warm as it reacted to the notion. _"I'll take you…"_ purred his voice in her mind. She licked her lips in unexpected anticipation.

The carriage arrived and she showed the driver her ticket. He nodded and she sat upon the cold leather seats. The curtains were drawn against the chill and it wasn't as if she could see very much anyway. She smelled water and salt air and the sounds of sea gulls surrounded her. They were traveling across a long bridge, a causeway built between islands in a fjord of the great Waking Sea. She had grown up on its shores and knew these smells well. It was a return to her past when life was simpler and much less exciting. She loved her life as it was now and wouldn't give up Alistair or her friends or her experiences for anything.

After just over an hour, they were passing through the gates of a city with brick streets and life, even at this hour, with a bustling marketplace and children laughing through the streets. The vehicle wound its way through streets lit and dark all the same and soon arrived at huge estate that was nearly a castle. He stopped and came around to the side of the carriage to take her hand. Her coat fell open and he smiled at the eyeful her breasts gave him. She winked at him and he blushed. An elf, wearing a heavy coat herself, took Elissa's hand almost immediately. "Come! Come! It is frigid out here. You have your ticket? Ah. Von. 'Tule Lind'. Firebird. There is a tale of the Firebird. It is most famous, indeed. I'll bet your dress is divine, Madam. Your mask and hair are certainly works of art themselves. Once you enter the building, you speak only to us elves who are serving food and other… delights. Do you understand? No words until permission is given. Anything else is up to you. Oh and keep your mask on. Questions?"

"Are there…rules? Besides no talking or removing of masks?"

The elf-woman chuckled as they ascended a long flight of stairs leading up the building. Their coats were taken at the door and Elissa carefully attached her decorative purse to the front of the dress. It blended in perfectly. "Non. There are standard ball dances, of course, but they will be sensual and likely sexual in nature. Nudity is, of course, welcome and appreciated. Implied sexual consent is given the moment your name is announced and that you are a willing participant in any activity that presents itself. Think of this as a feast with you as the main course and the actual food and wine we bring merely the side dishes. Dessert is anything or any_one_ you desire. Do not fear that you will possibly betray your lover. The probable chance is that he will eagerly please himself as well. My advice? Live out your fantasies real or imagined and most of all… Have fun."

Elissa nodded and started to thank her escort when she realized the elf was completely naked save for a pair of sandals artfully laced up both thighs, to the shaved crotch. Body paint was her only other clothing and hanging from both her nipples were bright golden hoops. They dominated her small, pert breasts. "All of us elfin servants are decorated as I am. And we don't wear masks. That is how you can tell us from those elves fortunate enough to afford the experience themselves. Are you ready?"

The young queen drew in a deep breath and nodded as she held out her hand to the maiden. The elf took it and they walked down a long corridor where her name and her ticket were each taken. She was announced by another elfin-servant, a very naked and very happy male. He said, "Let us welcome Tule Lind, The legendary Firebird. Her beauty will set your souls on fire and you will be reborn in her embrace. Be welcome!" She bowed deeply, her breasts slipping nicely from the bodice. She blushed as she stood up, now aware they were more visible than ever.

A man immediately climbed the stairs from the dance floor to greet her. He bowed and took her arm. He was dressed in a costume that was garishly reminiscent of fool's attire. The colors were outrageous and what she thought was an anatomically correct cod-piece was, in fact, his own fully functioning equipment painted to look like a part of his costume. She blushed as she realized the man was reacting positively to her own state of partial dress. He laughed, whirled her around and tilted her back to kiss her mouth. His hand ran along the length of her body and into the slit at her hip. The fingers attached to the hand discovered the lack of panties and he beamed. He kissed her a final time and then disappeared to greet the next woman in a similar fashion.

Already, at this early hour of the ball, there were a lot of people. Animals accounted for many of the costumes but there were also recreations of common demon attire, sexually and artistically redesigned for the wearer and nobles' outfits that seemed to missing the fronts, tops, backsides or, simply, were painted on. Those that wore only body paint were glittering, brightly-colored creatures whose paints drew the eye to whatever part (parts) they were trying to emphasize. Elissa spotted one woman with breasts larger than hers held in a kind of frontless halter so that they stuck straight out and squeezed together. Her nipples were decorated with golden tassels, which she spun to the delight of several on-lookers. Periodically, she would remove one of the tassels for an inquisitive tongue.

'_Well_,' Elissa thought to herself, '_if that woman can be so brave, then why can't I?'_ She boldly walked up to a strikingly-garbed shark-man, kissed him with her mouth open and grabbed him between his thighs. He moaned and kissed her back, his hand groping her breast. Afterwards, the smile he gifted her with thrilled her. She understood now why these balls exist and, Maker's Breath! She was going to play tonight.

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Somewhere far away, in the city of Lydes, Ambrose Fazsile sat in a low chair in the living area above his office. He was in the dark, save for the failing light of a sputtering candle, his pants open wide and his shirt hanging loose about his shoulders. His penis was partially visible as if hastily tucked back into hiding. He held his wine-goblet tightly in his right hand as it dangled over the arm of the chair. It was his third cup since the whore he'd paid to give him oral pleasure left, his need unsatisfied, his thirst unquenched. When was the last time he couldn't maintain himself when a woman was paying attention to him? He knew when. It frustrated him that only one woman had the ability to arouse him anymore. He took a long drink from the goblet and scratched the back of his head with his left hand. The fire needed rebuilding but he was too annoyed to do it. He frowned and gritted his teeth before refilling the cup.

Light suddenly flared, filling the room and cast Ambrose's lean shadow upon the far wall. He held up his arm in protest, sputtering as unwelcome brilliance filled his gloom-ridden sanctuary. An elf, carrying a lantern and a leather-covered bunch of clothing over one arm, entered the room. "Maker's Breath, Ambrose!" he chastised the man with only a hint of Ambrose's thick accent. "You're not shaved? You're not clean? This is madness. Get up and-" He started lighting candles and lanterns as he spoke, further disrupting Ambrose's angry peace.

"I'm not going," growled a deep murmur from the chair.

"Of course you're going, fool. You have to go. I paid for this ticket months ago. The Black Fox always goes to the Lover's Ball. It's tradition! Or has been for the last fifteen years. What will all those ladies do without you, my friend?" The elf laughed and put down the garment and the lantern on the dining table. He then walked around to face Ambrose, his hands on his hips. "Now, as your self-appointed glorified baby-sitter, I command you put down that wine and get cleaned up. Coiffure will be here any minute to do you up as tradition demands."

"I cannot go, Veranon. You do not understand." He took another long draw from the cup, draining it. He reached for the carafe sitting on the floor next to his chair but his hand touched only air. Grumbling, his blue eyes narrowed on Veranon, who was smugly holding the container aloft. "Give me my wine. Please."

Veranon shook his head. "Non. You will not lose yourself to drink _tonight_. You have a ball to attend and I will ensure that you will go."

"She will be there, Veranon, the woman I told you about. She will look ravishing and I will have to ravish her. Once we make love, it will be over. I will be hers. I _am_ hers. For my sanity and the mission, I must not go."

The skinny elf reached out to him and hauled him to his feet by his arm. He was surprisingly strong for one so much shorter and smaller. The tall human staggered forward with a grunt as the wine swirled straight to his head. Only four glasses! He should not be this dizzy. Ambrose reached for the waist band of his pants as they slipped from his narrow hips.

Veranon's eyes followed and he grinned, grabbing them at the waist. "Forget the mission, my friend. I told you it was crazy when you first left and I think you are crazy still." He pulled him down a hall and then he shoved Ambrose toward the private bathing room and began pumping hot water for a bath. Hot and cold pumps were an expensive luxury Ambrose was gladder than ever that he had purchased. He pulled off his pants and dropped the shirt on to the floor as the tub filled. He stood there, looking and feeling scruffy and awkward but Veranon had seen him this way more times than Ambrose cared to recall. This was nothing new.

"Non. The mission must go forward. If I fail, she dies. They all die."

Veranon helped his friend into the tub and went to the wash basin where Ambrose's shaving equipment lay as Ambrose scrubbed away the dirt and at the bitterness in his heart with a spicy-scented bar of creamy soap. "There has to be another way. She may already be dead, you know."

"You cannot know that." His hands scrubbed now at his chest and under his armpits. His arms and chiseled torso got the soap next.

"But can you be sure, my friend? It's not as if the one making promises is exactly trustworthy. Have you mentioned this to Elissa? Maybe she and her king can assist you? You said he trusts you, that you are friends." Veranon pulled up a short stool to the head of the bathtub and laid out a soft cushion for Ambrose's head and set out his implements of hair-removal.

Ambrose tilted his head back as his friend and partner cradled his head against the back of the tub and his chest. He soaped Ambrose's skin and laid the flat blade against his throat then started scraping away the black hair. "_She's_ in my head, Veranon. If I say a word of this, she is dead. They all die. Then where am I?"

"A single man who no longer has to worry about a wife who won't yield? You would be better off with Elissa and her husband than Aliyena anyway. She has been an emotional drain on you for more than twenty years. Turn your head."

"I love her, Veranon. You know that."

"Paugh. She does not love _you_."

"Of _course_ she loves me!"

"In the way a sheep loves his shepherd, perhaps. You protect her and that is all. She is not a wife, she is a pet. And she does nothing for you. As long as I have known you, you have been unhappy in your marriage to her. It breaks my heart. With this Elissa, perhaps you can find happiness."

"She has a husband, _Mon verte'_. I cannot, _will_ not compete with him for her. It would not be fair. I… _love him_ too much to do that to him."

"Why compete? Have you ever considered sharing, my friend Ambrose?"

"Lucrative notion that. However, it is not possible as it is also not normal in their land and likely unacceptable for a queen to have a man on the side. And then there is Alistair… He is a lover of women and so am I but I feel…drawn to him in a way I never dreamed possible. Am I losing my mind?"

"He's not a gender, Ambrose, he is a person for whom you have feelings and there is nothing wrong with that. Look beyond what dangles twixt his legs and focus on what beats 'neath his ribs. My opinion? I think Fereldans are so ridiculous. _They_ would make an exception, I am sure. Unless they're chantry prudes. That's an odd thought considering they are going to the Lover's Ball. That is _definitely_ not a place for Chantry prudes, _if_ you ask me. Stop moving. I almost got it." Veranon scraped away the last of Ambrose's beard and set to trimming the short black hairs on his chest. He was only trimming it, not eliminating it; he thought it added to Ambrose's allure and his sex appeal. He did it in sections using a screen he carefully laid on Ambrose's hirsute chest and the coaxed the hairs through so that he could evenly and neatly trim them. Periodically, he scraped the razor against Ambrose's soft skin where he thought it would look best bare. He also touched up his arms and checked his back for stray hairs. Unlike his chest, Ambrose fortunately had a hairless back. The lashing-scars, however, stood out white against his tanned skin. Veranon winced. When they first met all those years ago, they were puckered and raised more than they were today. There were dozens of them.

Ambrose stood up in the bath tub and tried to take the razor from Veranon's hand but the elf lifted an eyebrow and shook his red-haired head. He cupped the back of Ambrose's head with his hand and stood up on his tip-toes to give him a long, soft kiss, which Ambrose returned with a smirk. His partner moved down the tall Orlesian's body and sat on the tub so that his face was even with Ambrose's groin. He slowly, methodically lathered the area carefully, fully aware that Ambrose was enjoying it more than he should. "Veranon, no…" he started to say in a warning voice but the elf stood up and silenced him with another kiss. He went back down and began lathering once again.

His hands moved slowly back and forth, pleasuring his employer and partner while pretending not to. He'd never been allowed to get so far even though he had tried it at least a dozen times. Even kissing Ambrose was difficult. But tonight, the man was like dough in his hands. He worked him, kneaded him and rolled him until Ambrose was fully risen and heaving with unspent spent need. When he came, he came explosively and leaned forward, his hands supporting himself on Veranon's narrow shoulders. He panted and slid into the cooling water of the tub and enfolded his friend into a desperate hug. He wept into the elf's shoulder until the reservoir was empty of tears.

Veranon helped him stand again, re-lathered his groin and set about trimming away the excess hair around his member and thighs. He neatened the rest and smiled at his handy work. "If you are going to put it on display, my friend, you should make sure it's worth displaying and not hidden by a jungle! You humans! So furry, you are like a bear. Ah! Is that door? Coiffure is here to fix you up and make you the Beau of the Ball. Hurry! Get dressed and meet me downstairs."

Ambrose stepped from the cool water and started to dry his shoulder-length black hair with a towel. "Veranon… I wish to thank you. That was… It proved something to me. Something important that I needed to know."

"Hm? That you can take it from a man as well? You were so high-strung you were going to explode. You would have been useless. By the way, I prepared those papers you asked me to prepare. Are you sure about the changes?"

Ambrose nodded as he dried himself off. "Aye. See to it that if…something happens…well…you know…"

Veranon nodded sagely. "I understand. You're choice is a good one and I will see to it that everything is arranged. Just…Do me a favor?"

Ambrose cocked his head in his charmingly inquisitive way, his wet hair in his eyes and said, "Hm?"

"Don't."

"Don't what?"

"Just… Don't. Or I'll have to find a new job."

**To Be Continued.**


	23. Chapter 23

**Tainted Dreams 23**

_Sorry about the delay in posting. It was a rough week. There's not much to worry about content-wise in this edition. Just a bit of sensuality. Sorry about that. Anyway, enjoy!_

…**She Can Find it Herself**

**The Masquerade, Part 2**

Alistair stood nervously in the midst of the curious partiers. He was impressed by the attire worn and the amount of flesh exposed but he was uncertain as to exactly how he had arrived here. Not physically, but mentally. No wonder Ambrose had laughed at him. Next time, Ambrose was coming along to translate every nuance of the Orlesian language so that he wouldn't make a mistake like this again.

He started forward, intent on finding his wife when a woman slid up behind him and purred against him. Her hands rand up his torso and slid in behind golden halves of soft, short fur that made up his vest. She caressed his chest while making little sounds of content. He couldn't help himself. It felt good. Damn good, as her hands stroked his nipples and smoothed over the sharply defined muscles of his stomach. He leaned into it and closed his eyes.

Another woman approached him from the front, smiling seductively. She was dressed as a flamboyant, colorful peacock complete with a gown resembling a spray of teal, blue and green "feathers" that drifted along in a flourish of iridescent silks behind her. The bodice had a deep "v" that left her breasts completely exposed almost to her pubis, below her navel. Her breasts were painted elaborately to look like teal and green feathers and they had been dusted with glitter. The woman's nipples were pierced with jewels connected to an elaborate chain stretching between them and a bejeweled necklace. Feathers sprayed out from her shoulders and her mask was the face of her signature bird. Jewels winked atop the head "feathers" and her lips had been painted a glittering iridescent purple. She touched his body with hands bedecked with jewels and incredibly, impossibly long nails the same theme and color as her dress. She smoothly lowered herself to her knees and removed his heavy lion-head cod-piece with a hungry smile.

Alistair gasped as the woman opened the front of his pants and pleasured him with her purple lips. Two more women joined her, the four taking turns fawning over his beautiful body and the large, uncircumcised member that now had a life of its own. He was trapped by a multitude of attentive tongues whose clever strokes held him as well as any lock and chain. The fact that he was in the middle of a large, crowded ball-room had caused him some consternation in the beginning but he was now so distracted that his anxiety took a back-seat to the glorious pleasure surrounding him. He sighed. So, okay, he could do this. Maybe, just maybe, he might survive this night. Perhaps not with any shred of his morality in tact but he would walk out with a smile on his contented face at least. Orlais was a whole other world, that's for damn sure.

When the ladies finished their pleasing assault of his person, he replaced his codpiece and, dignity clinging by a thread, he made his way through the crowd. As he searched for the lovely creature he hoped he would know as his wife, he paused before a reflective piece of black marble. He appraised what he saw with a smile and even squared his shoulders in a kind of heroic pose. He cut a striking figure in his elaborate lion-themed costume.

The colors were in golds and browns, feline accents and creatively cut pieces of leather and cloth. The golden-brown suede shirt he wore was lightly furred about the edges framing his broad chest and plunged to the leopard-skin belt that he wore low on his narrow hips. The shirt was so tight, no detail was left to the imagination, including his pert nipples. The sleeves were tight to the elbows and then flared, flowing loosely and lined in deep purple. A heavy furred cape hung asymmetrically from his shoulders and threatened to drag on the marble floors. It, like the sleeves was lined in purple. He wore skin-tight breeches open on the sides that showed an impressive amount of muscle all the way up to the hips. You could see the definition through the tight, brown leather.

A mask resembling the noble gaze and upper jaw of a mighty lion complete with a huge mane of tawny fur was perched upon his head. He found it easier than he had initially thought to see through the clear "eyes" of the mask. He was clean-shaven and the costume artist had pierced his ear so that a large gold hoop dangled from the now inflamed earlobe. It was throbbing dully. His lips were painted a dark brown and glittered. Gold dust was liberally applied to all exposed areas of his skin, including his chest. To top it off, he wore gold-painted lion-themed cuffs and a heavy lion-head pendent that rested upon his chest, held there by a furred thong. The boots were soft and they were made of many colors and textures of leather cut into lion-shapes and applied in a seemingly random pattern on the outer part that made up the visible part of the boot. The final addition was a gratuitous, lion-head-shaped cod-piece that growled from his groin. Behind it, his crotch bulged nicely and was laced in contrasting leather thongs. To his earlier dismay, the cod-piece was ridiculously easy to remove. He was now no longer so concerned.

He looked around and smiled. All these women, all this beauty and amazing food were going to be wonderful. For the first time in his life, he could break loose of the trappings of Fereldan society and the Landsmeet's prudish standards and be someone he'd never thought possible. He grinned and slid up behind a beautiful swan and gripped her breasts from behind. She responded by wiggling her hips against his groin. He kissed her neck and sighed. When in Orlais…

In the room at that very same moment, Elissa looked up and spotted the newest member of the party: a lion-themed man with an impressive body and an even more impressive costume. He was currently seducing a lovely white-swan-garbed woman whose arm was snaked around his neck as he kissed her. She smiled, wondering what he looked like under all that leather and started for him when someone grabbed her arm, halting her forward progress. She looked around and spotted a man taller than most. He was striking to behold and smiled disarmingly at her. Her new dance partner bowed low and offered her his hand. Smiling sweetly, she curtsied and took it.

He had been announced as the "Legendary Black Fox," which implied he'd been to this ball before. The attention he received certainly seemed to indicate this. Tall and slender, he was nevertheless a strikingly muscular man. He was wearing a fox-inspired costume in tones of black and deep red. He looked like a cross between a dashing rogue and a woman's fantasy in leather and silk.

Atop his head was an elaborate furred mask in a stylized fox-face complete with whiskers and a white muzzle set against a black coat. His eyes were covered by red lenses so you could not see his eyes. Spilling from the mask were layers of black and purple hair that cascaded in a shimmering waterfall to his waist. The shirt he wore was blood-red, shimmering silk with a high collar and it was loosely tucked into a tight, corset-styled black leather vest. It was asymmetrically tucked into one-side, fully exposing one side of his generous chest. Gold chains hung about his neck, contrasting nicely with his glittering bronzed skin. The sleeves were loose, flowing and open at the shoulders. The sleeves closed at the elbows where two black bands gathered the loose folds of fabric. From there the sleeves flowed into fingerless black gloves that had several buckles and went about half-way to his elbows. The belt was a pale-red sash buckled with a stylized fox-head made of blackened silver. It had ruby eyes. She noticed he wore thigh-high black leather boots and a heavy leather cape lined with brilliant red silk. It draped diagonally across his collar bone, covering one shoulder. A fake rapier hung at his hip, completing the rogue look.

The breeches, however elaborate the rest was, stole the show with the way they enhanced his body. Made of crimson suede, they were skin-tight and stitched up the sides and crotch. Elissa noticed there was a flash of light there, a bit of contrasting color that peered through a one or two-inch gap between the two sides of the pants' front. She looked closely at the stitches and she realized she was looking through them to the thick head of his generously proportioned cock. It had been dusted with bronze glitter so that it sparkled like his skin. He grinned as he noted the direction of her gaze and the way her fingers strayed to her lips with shock. He whirled her about and dipped her deeply. Startled, she tried to recover and almost fell. His arms were around her, the fingers of his left hand lightly grazing the skin of her breasts.

Thus began the first of their many dances that night. He was an expert and rarely shared her with other men. The lion-man did take her away for playfully executed Remigold, which should have given her an idea of whom she danced with. But she was having so much fun that she ignored the clues that were practically in her face during the dances. From one man to the next, she whirled. Hands touched her, lips caressed her face and her body became a target for every mouth it came near. She loved it. She reveled in it and swam in the sea of sweat and muscle that surrounded her. Even women kissed her and touched her.

Eventually, she broke free from the maelstrom of sex and sweet sweat so that she could drink and get something from the huge buffet spread out along one wall. An elf wearing a silvery metal cage on his penis and elaborate body-paint in shades of black and silver, approached her with a silver-eyed smile. His arms were decorated in metal bands but that was it. "How are you holding up? I have a juice that will restore some of your stamina if you like."

Breathless, she nodded and accepted the cup from his proffered tray. She downed it in a gulp and walked along with him to the buffet. "This ball is… It's amazing. I've never done anything quite so outrageous in my life."

The elf nodded sagely. "You Fereldans are a very sheltered people. You don't enjoy the carnal pleasures the way we do. Or fashion. Or beauty. Such a pity. You are a fantastic example of your kind, Milady, if I may be so bold. Have you any questions?"

"When do we reveal ourselves to the other dancers?" she asked, helping herself to a plate and several bite-sized portions of vegetables, pasta and meat. She added a glass of the addictive bubbling wine the Orlesians seemed fond of. Clear and sweet, it seemed to go straight to the head.

Her companion smiled and helped her sit at one of the tables. "Soon. The announcement for Beau and Belle will occur first and then, once they leave, the veil will be lifted and you can show yourselves."

As she ate, Elissa raised an eyebrow. "Bow and Bell? Huh?"

"Non. Beau and Belle. The king and queen of the ball, if you will. The last four years it was won by the Black Fox and the lovely Peacock. They make a striking pair. However, it appears they both have some competition this year."

"Oh?"

"Yes. You and that lion-garbed fellow. He's even got the men in knots. But you have a better chance than he, I think, because of your charisma. The poor lion looks confused half the time. The fox will win again, I think. He always does." The elf raised a glass of wine and toasted her with a smile as he rose to his feet. "Good luck, Milady."

Elissa started to rise and looked up at the startling erotic image before her. The handsome Black fox was standing right in front of her, his crotch just under her line of sight. She was shamelessly staring at him, her mouth suddenly very moist. His hands reached for her, helped her to stand and then escorted her back onto the dance floor. His arms surrounded her from behind in a slow dance where his hips pressed against hers and they swayed slowly, the Fox's right fingers gently stroking her nipple, the hand cupping her full breast and his lips burned a passionate trail along her neck. His other hand surrounded her, held her close to him. He seemed utterly enraptured by her.

Suddenly, someone grabbed him and Elissa found she was no longer in his embrace. He hissed and pushed the peacock-woman back with one hand, shaking his head. He then turned back to his original partner, bowed deeply at his waist and escorted her deeper into the throng of dancing bodies. The peacock squeaked defiantly and tried to chase him but the lion-man intervened and grabbed her for a playful dance. Distracted temporarily by his broad chest, she danced with him though her eyes were fixated on the Fox. Eventually, she moved onto another man though she continued to stalk the fox and his lovely companion.

The Lion whirled around and found a woman with thick red hair embracing him from behind. Grinning, he took her pale hands and led her into a lively dance. She was dressed in a long, concealing white gown cut strategically around her breasts so that he could see her nipples poking through the thin fabric. Her mask was designed to look ethereal, like a faerie's long-lashed eyes and her lips were white-crystal dusted blue. Glittery gossamer wings clung to straps against her backless dress. The curve of her round bottom and a gratuitous amount of crack was visible above the drape of fabric that formed the nearly sheer white skirt. He thought she looked pregnant. At last! He was certain he had found his wife. He leaned forward and kissed her deeply. His hand moved behind the top of her dress. She giggled and touched his arm then pointed at a door leading away from the dance-floor. He nodded eagerly and they moved swiftly through the crowd to one of the corridors where empty rooms were now filling with amorous couples and groups.

After several more minutes of dancing, their host, a nobleman with a paunch and impeccably dressed in attired suited for formal occasions, ascended the stage where the musicians finally were taking a break. He cleared his throat and an elfin woman called for the dancers to stop dancing. He then began to speak in crisp, flowery Orlesian, which Elissa knew not a word of. She gripped the hand of the Fox, who grinned down at her.

"Before we announce the Beau and Belle of the ball," a translating elf called out in a high, far-reaching voice, "We have some diversions for you. The first is the Illusionist Levon De'Parteau. His magic is not what we are used to and is for entertainment's sake only. If any of you are Templars, ignore him and we will ignore you. Ladies and gentlemen… Levon De'Parteau!" The nobleman and the elf stepped away to cheers. On the stage stood a skinny elf that was, nonetheless, imposing in his makeup. He wasn't wearing much but what he wore was glittering and flowing around his partially nude body. He was wearing pants but they were completely crotchless so his long member swayed as he moved across the stage.

In heavily accented Fereldan, he started to explain his first act. "Ah veel vow you weese mah illuseons anf, pairhaps, reel masjeek! What eese reel? What eese illusion? You deside! For mah fairst act, ah veel make somesing sexy, somesing arousing appear. Now…" he gestured to the peacock woman and pulled her up on stage. He gestured to a low, flat table. "Vareefy zat ce table eese empty. Von? Empty? Bon! You aire done. Sankyou. Now, I shall place a shjeet ovair ze space whaire ze taball stands." He held up a heavy red sheet and jerked it three times. The sheet remained hovering and the Levon moved his hands under it, in front of it and around it. It hovered there as if held up by some kind of frame.

He gestured dramatically and all of a sudden, an image appeared. It was of a couple seducing each other, masks and most of their clothing intact. The man had the woman on her knees and was making love to her from behind. His lips grazed her neck and shoulders and sucked her ears as he pushed himself deep inside her, his hips rolling languidly. Elissa watched and realized that it was the lion-man. He was steadily grinding away, groping his partner's full breasts and was otherwise completely unaware of the observers watching them. There were moans as partiers became aroused and were handling their arousal. The illusionist grinned and reached for the sheet. With a loud snap, it came away, revealing the two partially-clothed humans actually making love on the table. The woman was partially crouching, her back to the Lion's front as he pushed into her rhythmically from behind. His hands were grabbing her breasts hard. He moaned low and long and came in a sudden explosion of excitement. He never spoke but when hands came together in boisterous applause, he did yelp and ducked behind the woman, who was grinning as she pulled her dress back together.

She rose and helped him stand. The cod piece still in the room, he was completely exposed and still semi-erect. He tried to cover himself up shyly but it was impossible; his hand wasn't big enough. The woman boldly urged him to bow and, dignity as intact as they could muster, they descended into the crowd where they were greeted as heroes. The lion man blushed and tried to escape but they were now surrounded. Elissa grinned. That just had to be Alistair. Oh well. Her turn now. She looked up at the Fox, whose amused half-grin looked very familiar to her.

There were more magic tricks and a final show displaying the amazing juggling act of the troupe, "_Coses en L'aire_" or "Stuff in Air." The Fox never laughed as they watched the shows. He smiled a bit and squeezed her hand tightly but otherwise appeared impassive throughout the shows. Eventually, he was led away from her by a group of women. He seemed to reluctantly dance with them though his eyes kept searching for Elissa. She too was being entertained by several partiers and, laughing, she became part of the ball once again.

At the end of the dancing, their host once again ascended the stage for another speech and judging from the excited shuffling around her, they were clearly anticipating something. Elissa searched for the Fox and found him near the stage. The translator began speaking, "This is the part of the ball where you will soon be allowed to shed your masks, speak aloud and shed your inhibitions." Cheers answered him. "We now announce the Belle and Beau of the Ball! For the fourth time in a row, the Black Fox is Beau! Everyone raise your hands for the Black Fox!" Around her, people cheered and her handsome dance partner ascended the steps. He looked at her and waved as he stood patiently beside their host.

"Our Belle tonight is a new face. We were awed by her charisma, her willingness to let loose and enjoy and, of course, her beauty. Would Tule Lind ascend the stage?" She looked around as people searched for the winner. Someone then nudged her. Then another person nudged her. Then a group of people were nudging her. She was slowly but surely being pushed in the direction of the stage. As she approached the steps, the Peacock woman ran past her and ran up onto the stage. She tried to take the crown from the hands of the elf but he refused.

"I am the Belle! I am always the belle! I have won four years in a row and it is with a surety that I am the most beautiful." The Nobleman hosting the dance drew himself up and barked something at her in Orlesian. The Peacock bristled as the Black Fox gently took her by the wrists and escorted her down off the stage. She struggled, yelling at him. He then took Elissa by the hand and tried to pull her up on stage. The Peacock took the moment to forcibly try to shove her to the ground. Elissa, an expert fighter and perfectly balanced, even with the added weight of the baby, did not go down. She took the Peacock by her shoulders and pushed her into the arms of a nearby man. She wasn't gentle about it.

Daintily, Elissa accepted the Fox's hand as he led her up on stage. The crowd cheered and Elissa was rewarded with a glittering tiara that was perched upon her sparkling coif. "Your first prize is, of course, your beau. The second prize is a carriage ride through the city. The third is a luxurious suite here in my estate for you and your Beau to use for two days. You will be served hand and foot as you desire. Congratulations!"

To Be Continued…


	24. Chapter 24

**Tainted Dreams**

**Chapter 24**

_Graphic graphic graphic sensuality and some sex. More foreplay than anything. But lots of it. You have been warned._

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* * *

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Elissa took the Fox's hand and allowed him to escort her to the Estate door. Dawn was caressing the city and had brought with it more snow and intense cold. She was given her heavy fur coat but the Fox refused his own fox-fur garment. He said something playful in Orlesian to the elf holding it and the elf, after a knowing smile at Elissa, nodded. They went down the steps and up to the awaiting carriage. The Fox held out his hand and helped her inside before following her himself. He sat across from her and held her hand to his lips. Smiling, she removed her mask and smirked as he stared at her. "Take yours off," she said.

He shook his head and looked out the window as the carriage jumped to a start. He excused himself with a hand gesture and stuck his head out the window. In Orlesian, he said something to the driver, who barked something back. Content, he settled back into his seat, his eyes on her. "I know it's you, Ambrose. We might as well drop the pretense and do, well, whatever we're going to do."

Laughing, he removed his mask and slipped onto the seat beside her. She reclined in his arms. "How long have you suspected?"

"Not long. I think it was when you smiled at Alistair."

"Alistair? The fortunate lion… Of course. How pathetic of me not to realize. So… Now what?" he said softly, a smile tugging at his painted lips.

She leaned in close to his ear and whispered, "Now, you _take_ me…" She shrugged out of the coat and touched her breasts with her fingers.

He blinked at her, startled by her wanton display of desire for him. He had almost convinced himself that it was all completely one-sided. That Elissa would want him in return was both blessing and curse. He loved Alistair too much to hurt him. "Elissa…this could be a bad idea. Alistair…"

"…is fine with it. Trust me. He knows me too well and he knew this would happen sooner or later. He challenged me on it, in fact."

"Von. He told me not to encourage you but… Maker, you are like water to a parched man. I can no more resist you than he could resist drinking. Forgive me when I say that I _need_ you."

"Then _take_ me, Ambrose. Take me with everything you've got and show me what all your experience has taught you," she murmured, lifting her breasts above the corset and thumbed her cold-hardened nipples. It was quite nippy without the coat. She loved it.

Ambrose's gaze followed her hands and soon, he was touching her as well. "Hmm. A brief ride in a carriage would only graze the surface of my skill, _Mon ce'aire_," he chuckled softly. Tenderly, his lips touched her nipple, his tongue wrapped around it, teased it and he sucked gently. Then his tongue started fiddling with the metal decoration and a moment later he offered it to her with his teeth. "Take off the other. I don't like these things."

She laughed and settled in against the back of the leather seat. "Do it yourself. I rather prefer the way you removed that first one."

He laughed heartily and opened his mouth to take in her other breast. With the skillful use of his strong tongue, he teased both her nipple and removed the swirling decoration in the same action. He handed them to her and she dropped them into her little purse. He then reached for her hand and pulled the glove off with a smile. He repeated the action with the other hand and raised her graceful arm above her head then tied one end of the glove to it. The other end he tied to the handle of carriage's cabin. He then tied the other hand in a similar way to the other side. He appraised her new position with a smug, approving smile. Her raised arms lifted her large breasts above the corset and pushed them together nicely. He reached out with both hands and thumbed her hard nipples as he leaned in to kiss her deeply. She responded eagerly, hungrily. He kneeled on the floor of the cabin, his long thighs helping to raise him to the level he needed to access what he wanted.

He kept his hands on her breasts as he worked his mouth down her body. Slowly, they moved down to her waist. He parted her legs with his long fingers and positioned them so that they were spread far apart. Ambrose then peeled away his black gloves and laid them aside with her coat. His eyes drank her in, the beautiful woman with her hands strapped to the handles, her breasts lifted high and her luscious thighs spread for his enjoyment. But he wanted to do something before he dined on the delicious banquet that beckoned to him. He stood up as much as he could in moving carriage and climbed around her so that his crotch was practically in her face. "You have no hands so you will have to untie the leather in a somewhat more creative way. Are you game, _Mon_ _ce'aire_?" He thrust his hips forward, his hands gripping the handles. It was a hard position to maintain in the swaying, bouncing vehicle.

Elissa smiled and tilted her head forward. Her tongue felt the knot and the end of the leather strings keeping him somewhat contained. Using her teeth, she pulled, tugging the leather loose. It took a bit of effort but she soon had the laces loose enough that she was able to turn her head sideways and pull the strings free, her mouth embracing his thick shaft as she worked. The glitter, she noted, was sweet and not metallic in the least. With his cock free, she was able to appraise it fully and appreciate her memory of what he said about the salt-shaker. He was terrifically thick. She tried to consume the bulbous head but he pulled his hips back she could get barely a taste of his sugar-coated member.

"Most eager, _Mon ce'aire_! I approve! But not yet. I have other surprises in store. I know that you tend to control things between you and Alistair but you need to give up that control for once and let me do what_ I_ want." She blushed, surprised and a little taken aback. No man, save one, had tried to wrest control from her in so blatant a manner. She found she liked it.

Slowly, he pressed his hard member against her cheek, dragging the head along her jaw and down her throat. Once at her breasts, he parted them with his long fingers and wedged himself between them. He loved the way they felt embracing him so fully. He pushed himself up and back slowly and reveled in the visual and physical sensations it caused. He enjoyed watching the head of his cock disappear and reemerge from behind her two perfect breasts. She giggled and he grinned. "I always wanted a woman I could do this to… Alas, I must move on. But I plan to do it again!"

He parted her skirt at the slit, exposing her fully for his appraisal. He touched her, enjoying the rose unfolding before him. She was pink outside and red inside with short red hairs neatly trimmed around the outer folds of her pubis. His long fingers teased as he explored her. He leaned forward, loving the scent of her and thoroughly enjoying the responses he was getting just by threatening to touch her. He stretched out his long, strong tongue and tasted her. She quivered and tilted back her head, her chin high. Her hands itched to touch him, to pull his head deeper into her. Elissa licked her lips and gasped.

His mouth consumed her, sucking and licking her, his large hands squeezing her slender thighs tightly. She moaned and he quickened his pleasurable assault. He had done this to countless women and each time, he found new ways to move his tongue so that his partner received the maximum benefit. Elissa, for all his experience, was different though. Her taste and scent were unique. Her body called to him, sang to him in a why he never imagined possible. It wasn't just about sex. It was more. It was need. And he knew then that he could never leave her side. This was the last woman he would ever need. He almost wept with the knowledge but it reassured him that no matter what he did, the choices he made, he would never be alone again. Now, if he could only convince Alistair that the king needed another man in the bed with them…

She came, crying out as tears streamed down her face. Wave after wave of passion enveloped her and his mouth did not cease plundering the treasure between her thighs until the last intense wave had long past. Weak, she hung from her arms and wept against his shoulder as he embraced her. "I should untie you…" he murmured.

"No… I want the rest of this. The first part was much too good to ignore the rest, the way you intended." He touched her face with his fingers and wiped away her tears. Tears of passion were never bad but why did he feel so guilty for causing them? He kissed her deeply, his tongue embracing hers in a dance of passion far more intense than any he could remember. Then he stood up, his knees straddling her on the bench and his hands enfolded around the satiny gloves holding her hands to the handles. His cock was in her face, the invitation clear. Elissa smiled. She was good at this part.

"Mon ce'aire, I shall caution you. If you attempt to take me in too fast, you may become uncomfortable. My…size…is both a good and a bad thing."

She laughed and gave the head an experimental lick and a tease with the tip of her tongue. "I think I'll be fine, my sweet. I'm not new at this and Alistair is not wanting in this department himself, you know. You are definitely thicker but he's longer…"

Ambrose tilted back his head and gasped as she did something with her tongue he'd never experienced from a woman before. "Hmm. I am tempted to find out for myself what Alistair is like under his clothes," he murmured.

Startled by the implication behind that statement, Elissa opened her mouth and stroked his shaft sideways with her tongue. She paused, licking sparkling sugar crystals from her lips. "I think I would like to see that very much, actually," she smiled as she went in to take him into her mouth more deeply. Ambrose gasped. She was both sucking and moving her tongue against his member at the same time. The movement of the carriage only seemed to reinforce the actions she was using to pleasure him.

Within a short time, much too short, he found himself on the brink of orgasm and quickly untied both her hands. He then repositioned her so that he was reclining on the bench, his butt off the edge of the seat and Elissa straddling his hips. He entered her and gasped as she closed tightly around his member like a vice. "Maker's breath, woman! I know you are not a virgin but this is...this unheard of! Never in my life have I felt anything so divine! If I didn't love you before, Mon ce'aire, I know that my fate is sealed." She smiled and pushed herself up to kiss him as he passionately ground his hips against hers. She then leaned forward along his lean torso, her lips licking his nipples beneath the red fabric of his shirt. They bucked together in unison until at last he came; shuddering, moaning and clinging to her. It was now his turn to cry. "I cannot deny my feelings, Mon ce'aire... I cannot deny..." he wept into her bare shoulder.

"Shhh. It's okay. I love you too," she chuckled, wiping the tears from his eyes with her thumbs. It was a tender gesture, which made him smile. He caught up her hand and kissed her palm. "So, wasn't this sopposed to be some kind of, um, tour of the city?" That made them both laugh. Almost as an afterthought, they disengage their connected bodies.

They rearranged their clothes and buried themselves within the fur coat Elissa brought and snuggled together. Ambrose had instructed the driver to return them to the party. During the ride back, in the false light of early dawn, he pointed things out to her. All of the Buildings, monuments, shopping districts and other areas of interest flashed by them as they weaved past. They seemed so insignificant in light of what the previous hour had shown them. So much for the grand guided tour, she thought, her eyes on Ambrose's life-worn face. He seemed younger now, more at ease than in past weeks. It added to his appeal. They both laughed, wondering what the few pedestrians about at so early a time would have thought of the events taking place within the carriage. The driver knew what they were doing. He knew all too well that when he is instructed to drive in circles on the newest streets, the passengers are doing much more than sitting.

They arrived and were greeted at the door by an elf who immediately took Elissa's coat. He noted that they were not wearing their masks. "Should we don them? I thought we were finished with masks for now," Ambrose asked, prepared to put his mask back on. They followed the elf back through the hallways and reemerged at the great hall where people were dancing much more provocatively than before. Most had shed their masks. Many masks were propped on their wearer's heads and some partiers had even removed parts of their costumes. A few were now even completely naked.

"Von. You are to show your faces before the crowd, on the stage. Then, ah, they want you to sing."

"Non. I will not sing. I was drunk the last time I sang and I can barely remember the words anyway,"

"You sing?" Elissa laughed, taking his arm.

"While I'm bathing, mostly. I did it by drunken accident three years ago and they keep trying to make me do it again and again. I'm not even that good! Not a bard, not a minstrel, just Ambrose. Elissa, please, don't ask me to sing… I beg you. Like Alistair, I can refuse you nothing." The way her eyes danced in the elaborate lining of kohl and lash extensions and flame-hued make-up, Ambrose knew he was lost. She was stunning. This young woman was beauty personified and damned if he could tell her no.

After replacing her mask as they approached the platform, Elissa said, "Please? I want to hear you sing!" She said them. She had uttered those ill-fated words. He sighed and took her hand and hauled her up onto the stage. "It is sung to a woman and you are the lucky one I get to sing to. Yay. I hate this. Very well. Do they plan to announce us or are we just going to stand here and look pretty?" Ambrose muttered as the nobleman made a brief speech to those gathered. Then they pair were instructed to remove their masks.

* * *

Elsewhere, in a room not far from the hall, Alistair Theirin laid with a woman he knew could not be his wife. For certain, she did have red hair, full breasts, a baby belly, blue eyes and pale skin but one thing had stood out; one glaring difference he knew the moment he entered her.

She wasn't nearly as tight as his wife. And her skills were, well, way too refined. He played along at first but when she hauled him back to the room for round two, he demanded to see her face. She removed her mask, revealing a face he knew well, even behind the layers of cosmetics. "Leliana…" he murmured, his fingers caressing her face with a smile. It was a shock and quite humiliating at first that he was making love to one of their former companions. She was also a friend. He'd never been sexually attracted to her but in recent years, she appeared to have changed. She grinned and rolled him onto his back for a long kiss.

"I always wanted to do this to you, Alistair. Thank you for not bolting the moment you found out it was me," she laughed.

He held her against him and laughed into her short red hair. "I thought about it! Believe you me, I thought about it. But… I have changed, Leli. My wife is a sexual spitfire and she's teaching me her deviant ways. I'm a lot less Chantry-minded about things than I used to be. I couldn't be with her otherwise. Do you know she really likes multiple partners? She gets a kick out of it like you've never seen! It all started with Isabella. "

There was a burst of slightly-accented Orlesian laughter from his broad shoulder. "Oh? Does that include women?"

He laughed. "You'll have to ask her about that yourself. I'm sure will be ecstatic to see you. We might be able to talk her into something more than friendly, I think. Are you asking?"

Leliana rose up on her hands, her breasts swaying above Alistair's chest. Their costumes had been mostly removed this time and it was lovely just having her there in her glory. He caressed her almost against his will. "Of course I am asking! I always wanted to bed her, too. I too have become less 'Chantry-minded' over the course of years. I returned to my old life and though the Maker still blesses me, He no longer is the driving force behind all that I do. I think about myself more. This is probably why I am pregnant. It was really an accident but…I'm happy for it."

"I wasn't going to ask…" Alistair started.

She kissed him and rose from the bed to dress back in her costume. "That's why I offered. Come! The 'Fox' is about to sing, if they convinced him to. He really hates singing and actually succeeded in refusing last year but he's really quite good. He's possessed by some raw talent."

"You know him?" Alistair asked, pulling his tight pants back on in a hurry. Leliana helpfully reattached the codpiece and helped him into the tight vest and cloak. Once clothed, they rushed down the hall and into great ball room the Masquerade was taking place. Ambrose and Elissa stood up on stage to the roar of the crowd and one pissed Peacock. Ambrose looked irritated and Elissa was holding his hand wearing a playful smile.

Leliana answered as soon as they found a place near the stage to stand. "Of course I do! There isn't a woman here who hasn't been seduced by the Black Fox, myself included. He does have a real name though… It is Ambrose Fazsile and if I am not mistaken, it seems that his Belle this year is none other than your own wife. Oh, but she is stunning, isn't she?"

Alistair lifted his gaze to his wife and recognized her as the woman he had seduced and touched and explored with his mouth the whole night. She'd been in his arms and he never knew, so deceptive was her costume. He smiled. That she had won as Belle was no surprise. That Ambrose was the infamous Black Fox should have been no surprise either. Well, score for her and for him this night, he thought ruefully. Elissa and Ambrose had no doubt already consummated their win while Alistair and Leliana had pleasured one another in the room. He wondered if Ambrose would be averse to merging their parties into a single one. The Fox's costume certainly left little to the imagination so that Alistair could actually see what he was contemplating. He'd felt it in between his thighs once and part of him had actually enjoyed it. Elissa _did_ like watching him with men... Maybe he could take pleasure from Ambrose as well, for her sake if not his own. He thought about it and grinned as Ambrose opened his mouth to sing…

Ambrose's song and The Masquerade to be concluded next chapter


	25. Chapter 25

**Tainted Dreams **

**Part 25**

**(Happy New Year!)**

_Warnings: This chapter has sex in it between men. Not gratuitous and Alistair is very, very shy about it but it is there. There is also the use of the *F* word. Exactly twice. It's funny. You'll like it. If you are one of those who enjoys the steamier chapters, this one and a portion of the next are probably the last of the more graphic chapters (though I promise, I'm a glutton so it's going to get slipped in somewhere along the way in the upcoming plot-heavy chapters.) We're on the downward slope, Ambrose's secret is finally out. Thanks you to those who have helped me on the story thus far. And thanks to you readers for supporting me._

_One last note: The next chapter will be a glossary of "Orlesian" terms (as I have made them up-They are NOT endorsed by BIOWARE or anyone associated with BIOWARE and could be contradicted at anytime by BIOWARE.) It will be done cleverly so be sure to read it, even if you know they mean. The Denerim Inquirer Wants to Know! _

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Ambrose stood nervously on the stage, all eyes on him. Elissa squeezed his hand reassuringly and he smiled weakly down at her. _'She loves you, you fool. Just sing the damn song, make her smile and get it over with so you can retreat with her to your suite and show her just how much _you_ love _her_! Get it up! No, not that, idiot! Your courage! Maker's breath, you're incorrigible.'_ "Okay okay, ah, musicians, I know nothing about music so, ah, keep up if you dare. I was drunk the first time I sang it so… Here goes everything." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. It was hard remembering the lyrics because each time he sang it, it came out just a bit different than the last time. His slender fingers curled around Elissa's as he opened his mouth and began the song in a low key.

"Greetings, my dear, you don't know me too well

But here I am in the flesh.

You've never met a man quite like I am

But I'm here to tell you we'll mesh.

"My name is Ambrose Fazsile!

If you don't know me, you will.

I am a man with a singular plan

To live life as he will.

"Now I've been around this great world that you see.

I have brought great men to their knees.

I've killed my way through a dozen dark hordes,

'Tis a life from which I shall never grow bored.

"My name is Ambrose Fazsile!

If you don't know me, you will.

I am a man with a singular plan

To deal death as he can.

"Alas I have met many ladies of course,

Perhaps they are my passion's source.

But there are times when this routine old life,

Needs escape from his routine old wife!

"My name is Ambrose Fazsile!

If you don't know me, you will.

I am a man with a singular plan

To find pleasure as I can!

"There are days I look back and I wish there was more.

Such as to have someone to adore.

To feel the arms of a loving lass

Who loves me for me and not just my ass!

(Laughter from the audience)

"My name is Ambrose Fazsile!

If you don't know me, you will.

I am a man with a singular plan

To fall in love if I can!

"My name is Ambrose Fazsile!

If you don't know me, you will.

I am a man with a singular plan…

To live life as he can!

To live life as I _can_!"

He stayed on the final, high note in "can" for several impressive seconds, his powerful voice reverberating all around them. He truly was talented, if unrefined. His voice had a gravely quality that was strong and carried well. His pitch was good where it was needed and managed to remain mostly in tune. Ambrose's thick accent enhanced the quality of his voice and the song itself so that it seemed it could not be sung any other way. For an amateur who hated singing, he was impressive enough that the gathered Minstrels asked for his song to use in other venues. He waved his hand dismissively and grunted before turning to the partiers.

The crowd cheered and Elissa hugged him. He blushed and draped an arm around her shoulders. "Can we, ah, go now?" he murmured as he tried to steer her toward the steps leading off the stage. People hugged him and shook his hand as he escaped into crowd. If he wanted, many of the people could easily be his friends but he figured he had only about five good years left before the Calling took him so his avoided friendships as much as possible. He didn't want to hurt anyone's feelings when he died, after all.

All of a sudden, he was rushed by Alistair who gave him a rather juicy kiss on the mouth. He _thought_ the man had aimed for his cheek but on the other hand, he didn't seem embarrassed by it either. He draped an arm around the young man's shoulders and gave him a tight squeeze. Alistair held him around his waist in return. "That was amazing, Ambrose! When Leliana said you were good…"

"Leliana? She's here?" Elissa gasped.

"In the flesh, _Mon cir_!" came the familiar voice from beside her. Elissa broke away from Ambrose to hug her long-time friend. "Oh, I have missed you so much! Do you mind if we all play catch up in the suite you guys won for Belle and Beau? It will be much more comfortable, I think."

Ambrose nodded and gestured to them the hall the suite was in. He'd stayed in it enough times; he knew it by heart now. Once he arrived, the guard winked at him and opened the door. It was lavish as always. Filled with scented candles, wine and spirits for every palette, decadent desserts and main dishes designed to warm the libido as well as fill the belly. There was a thick, plush couch, a heavy fur rug, a huge canopied bed made for a lot more than two people and a closed door leading to a private bathroom.

Leliana stuck her head inside of it as they looked around the room at everything. Ambrose grinned at her when she reemerged. He was the only one seated. "Candles? Scented sweet and bubbles fresh in the tub?" he asked in a bored voice with a bright-eyed grin.

"Yes! How did you…?"

"I've done this a few times. The bath is quite large. Two, three…even four people could comfortably fit and still get clean. Not that I've ever tried. Last year I enjoyed it alone after I removed my Belle from my presence because she demanded I marry her. Because she was the host's younger sister, he happily took her away and offered up a lady of my choice. I chose Lady Luck instead. She was quite amicable to my needs." He stretched himself out on the couch, fully aware of the strain the position put on the open laces of his open crotch. He was sticking out nicely, just enough to tease his female companions. There was even some glitter left on it.

But the ladies were suddenly touching one another's elaborate costumes, talking about the two men in the room and trading notes. As Ambrose watched, Elissa showed Leliana her lack of panties and Leliana grinned in return, showing her that she had discarded hers hours ago. Alistair drew close to Ambrose's shoulder, taking in the closeness of the two women, the way their hands touched. At last! The contact the men were waiting for came as Leliana's fingers grazed Elissa's pert nipple. Then, she walked around to Elissa's back and unlaced the dress. It fell to the floor in a feathered heap, which Elissa daintily stepped out of. Both men were instantly aroused, members hard and Ambrose even felt his push aside the laces of his crotch in a bid for freedom from the restraining leather.

Elissa was now wearing the corset, stockings, shoes and nothing else. She smiled at Ambrose, who seemed transfixed. She wrapped an arm around Leliana's neck and drew her in for a long, passionate kiss. Leliana soon dropped her own gown beside Elissa's and the carefully placed the dresses on the table. Then, stepping out of their shoes, the two red-headed beauties un-snapped the stockings and positioned themselves flirtatiously before the men as they slowly removed them. "We plan to take advantage of the bath. You may join us… If you like." Leliana giggled, slapping Elissa's round bottom with the flat of her hand. Giggling, they walked into the bathing room, leaving the men to gawk at them in their wake.

Alistair stared and Ambrose blinked numbly. Finally, the tall Orlesian rose from the couch, came around to Alistair's side and waved his hand in front of his face. "Hey. Your kingship. We've been invited to join them. Hello-o-o. Two. Naked. Women. Want. Us. Anyone home? Bah!" That said, he grabbed Alistair by the back of his head with both hands and planted a long, deep kiss on his mouth complete with tongue. It was the first time he'd ever intentionally kissed a man and, suffice to say, he rather liked it. Well, on this man anyway. With Alistair sputtering but conscious, Ambrose removed the other man's pants and peeled his way out of his own. The ladies shouldn't be made to wait! But as he helped Alistair with his boots, he was rather impressed with the long, thick member practically hanging in his face. "So that's what you've been hiding, _Mon ve'erte_. Nice! Perhaps you will allow me to experiment later, non?"

The younger man blushed and hesitated as Ambrose tried to steer him into the bathroom where giggling could be easily heard. Finally, Ambrose grabbed Alistair by his cock and pulled him along. "Hey!" the young king protested.

Ambrose drew in very close to Alistair and whispered into his ear, "Listen, _Mon'cir_. The women, they are making love without us. To eachother! I say we have two choices: just watch or join in and _still_ get to watch. By the way, I have decided I _might_ love you too. I love Elissa more, of course, but you come in a close second, which is most fortunate considering that you are both married to one another. Makes things easier for me. Now, come _on_!"

The two men, both heterosexual by nature and by definition were challenged by the proximity of their bodies to one another as they entered the bath tub. What was more, they shared a growing mutual attraction not just to Elissa but to each other as well. Ambrose, the more experienced of the two, had never experienced a man before and though not necessarily against it, had never found anyone he liked enough to be willing to try it with. Alistair, for his part, was against the notion of having sex with a man under any circumstances but found himself falling for "Ambrose the Person" and if he tried hard enough, the "man" part came in only later.

The tub, though quite big enough, meant that all four were touching in some way and because the two women were curled up comfortably on one side, it meant the two otherwise fiercely heterosexual men were together at the other end. Ambrose seemed comfortable enough, his long legs bent at the knees and spread wide and Alistair nervously pressed up against the Orlesian's broad chest. Ambrose had his arm around the young king's shoulders and a rakish grin on his recently clean-shaven face.

Elissa drifted close to them and touched their faces. "Kiss for me," she murmured to them as she leaned in and kissed each man on the lips. Ambrose smirked and made sucking-sounds at Alistair with his lips. Alistair blanched and looked like he was about to bolt when he stopped and looked at Ambrose quizzically.

"Well, that's odd. The notion of kissing you is really not a bad thing. And here I was worried. So, ah… I just go in and…?" Ambrose smiled, this time gently and touched his finger to Alistair's jaw, gently running it along to his chin where he reached up and stroked the young man's lower lip. Their lips met and what initially looked like a quick kiss for Elissa's benefit became so much more and ever longer than expected. Elissa watched as she held Leliana. They were fondling one another's breasts as they drank in the vision of these two beautiful men growing ever closer to engaging in foreplay.

The kiss ended much as it began but with Alistair looking baffled as ever. "I should be grossed out. I really should be but… He's good! I mean, you're a good kisser, Ambrose."

The black-haired Warden tipped back his head and laughed. "You are quite good yourself, Mon'cir! I was impressed. So… Do we plan to shrivel in this cooling water or do we plan to dry ourselves off and let me run my tongue over every inch of your sweet bodies, Mon'elleis?" Ambrose leered at both women, licking his lips playfully at them. Elissa rolled her eyes.

Alistair laughed and spontaneously kissed the other man before hauling himself out of the tub. "Patient as ever, I see. He has a point. I rather agree with his point. Licking is good."

Ambrose rose, giving the two women a fair look at him as he stepped out of the tub and stood there dripping, hands open to help them both out. They accepted and Leli, smiling, reached down and squeezed him with her hand. "Not even hard and you're that thick… Mmmm…"

"You've never had the pleasure of my bed, Mon'ellei?" he murmured into her wet hair. She kissed him seductively as she ran her hand down his body.

"Your lips but not this delightful toy."

He laughed and fondled her breast with his fingers, carefully stroking the nipple to a hard, salmon-hued point. "We shall have to amend that now, won't we?"

Elissa walked back in the bathing room where Ambrose continued to purr into Leliana's ear and grabbed him by a full hand of his skillfully layered and enhanced hair before hauling him into the room where Alistair sat nervously on the couch. "Ouch!" the Orlesian cried. "Those layers are firmly attached to my own hair, thank you!"

She grinned and shoved him onto the couch beside Alistair and straddled his lap. There, his protests died and became a sly, "Why didn't you say so…?" Leliana did likewise to Alistair and leaned forward to kiss the younger man's neck. Ambrose, well aware that he had a very alluring woman in his lap, did not hesitate. He leaned forward and brushed his lips from the tips of her erect nipples, up over the swell of her breasts and along the hollow of her long neck. She sighed as he worked his mouth along her jaw, his long, elegant fingers carefully undoing her elaborate up-do. Layers of long, fiery locks, both hers and fake, gathered upon her shoulders and fell down her back when he was done.

Carefully, he whispered to her, "I love you, Mon ce'aire… I am a fool. Such a fool."

She leaned forward, loving the feel of his hands upon her skin and only too aware of the throaty sound that came from Alistair's lips beside them as Leliana slid to her knees and took him in her hands and mouth. It stirred her blood but Ambrose's tone stirred her curiosity. "A fool…for loving me?"

"Not…exactly. I will explain. Later. I promise. For now… Just know that there is no going back for me. I am yours." He lifted her buttocks and gently guided her down upon his hard cock. She gasped at the sensation. The man was supremely huge in circumference and even as aroused by his kiss and skillful touch as she was, she found herself a difficult fit. But somehow, they matched perfectly and she was able to grind her hips into his. He smiled as he watched her.

Elissa liked to be seen when she made love to a man. She lifted her arms above her head, ran her fingers through her hair and touched herself to Ambrose's visual delight. He looked over at Alistair whose dreamy gaze caught his and then kissed him. Elissa was thrilled by this and smiled when Leliana impaled herself on Alistair's long member. The two women kissed one another as they slowly ground their hips with the men in near perfect synch.

Later that night, Ambrose found himself giddy with heightened lust as he bent over Elissa while she lay on her back on the edge of the bed, her thighs around his shoulders as he drank from the cup of her body. Curled round her face was Leliana, herself taking pleasure from Elissa's skillful tongue. Surprising everybody was Alistair, his fingers tight around Ambrose's narrow hips and his well-lubed cock buried deep in the taller man's ass. The idea had been Ambrose's and Alistair had entered into it while protesting that this only meant he was attracted to Ambrose and not men in general so nobody get any ideas. They all smiled at him and Ambrose replied by handing him the lube. The pleasure from the tightened vice of Ambrose's virgin hole was enough to make Alistair moan loudly. Because of the internal sensation, Ambrose was hard almost immediately and worked himself with his hand as he used his mouth to pleasure Alistair's sensual wife.

The experience was new for all of them; especially the boys and they soon fell asleep shortly after the second or third orgasm for each of them. When the time came for Leli to leave, she did so quietly and left a note of thanks and farewell. She would see them again.

Ambrose awoke in Alistair and Elissa's arms with a start. He shot straight up, sweating and gasping as he realized, "She's gone!"

"Wha-? Who's gone, Ambrose? Lay back down…" Alistair mustered as he peered up at Ambrose with one eye open.

"Leliana left. He must mean her. Come on, Love. Back down here with us," Elissa sighed, wrapping her slender, toned arms around his neck. Ambrose slid an arm around her and buried his face into her hair.

"Not Leliana, Mon ce'aire. Someone else. I-I do not have much time to tell you what I have to tell before she returns."

Alistair propped himself up on one elbow and looked up Ambrose, a smile tugging at his lips. "You have the most beautiful woman I know in your arms. She's naked. And you want to talk? Are you kidding me?"

Ambrose smirked and licked Alistair's nose playfully. "Von. And naturally I plan to ravish both of you soon as I get this off my chest. But first, I must speak because I don't know how much unmonitored time I have.

"The fact is, I love you both. Especially Elissa and it is for her sake I tell you this. I have reached a point of no return and my plan cannot be completed as originally intended so I shall explain my plan as it was originally meant to occur. Please do not think less of me because, thank to you both, I have changed a great deal over the past weeks. You see, in the beginning I was a bastard…"

"…that's for damn sure!" added Alistair with a burst of laughter.

"Fuck you, Alistair! Just…fuck you," Ambrose retorted, only half-joking, as he scowled at his male bed-partner.

Alistair laughed again and patted the older man's cheek fondly. "You already did. All I can say is… I'm pretty sore right now."

Ambrose grunted, frowned and considered shoving his male bed-mate onto the carpeted floor but balled his fist under his nose instead. Alistair was still laughing at him. "ANYWAY… I'm running out of time, remember? Gah! Anyway, within my mind an infernal demon, yes, pun is intended, who listens to every word, every thought. Right now, she is distracted enough that she is not 'listening' to me so I can speak plainly, if quickly and hopefully she will not overhear."

"Wait, what? You have a demon inside you?" Alistair gasped, rising to a seated position.

"Non. The demon is within my wife but she managed to gain access to my mind before I left via a spell of sorts so that she could keep a mental eye on me. My family, as you earlier deduced is in her hands. My son, my daughter, their lives are in the balance. The demon wanted Elissa in exchange for their safe return and my silence was meant to ensure that nothing interfered with my completing this task. In the beginning, my distance from you assured that it would be done. However, my silence was not necessary as a much greater threat has ruined those plans." He bowed his head against Elissa's shoulder and started to weep. His shoulders shook as Alistair touched him kindly. His crying was soft at first but grew into great, heart-rending sobs as he realized what he had to do. Alistair and Elissa enfolded him in their arms as they too felt his pain and did their best to console him.

"I fell in love, _Mon ce'aire_!" he wailed, "I fell in love with you and Alistair and now, I cannot complete my task and my children may not live to see me again… For me to redeem myself, I must fail, it seems. I don't know what to do! Unless it is done, her way…my family…is…lost."

To Be Continued


	26. Chapter 26

**Tainted Dreams **

**Part 26**

_Well, I hope you folks enjoyed the "break". From here on it gets rough. I've been hinting and Elissa, bless her, keeps distracting me from my task. I am back in control. There's some sensuality in this. Um, sex, I mean. _

**A Day in Val Royeaux**

Alistair sighed and leaned against the wall. Elissa was being obstinate and headstrong. Granted, she was like that normally but normally, she was also reasonable. Right now, she was standing firm and ignoring his threats and bribes almost casually. It was hard for him because she was doing this while wearing nothing but a smile or frown depending on what she was saying at the moment. "It's crazy, Elissa. You will be in great danger if you go. Who knows why this thing wants you! I don't want you finding out first hand. Period. I-I'm putting my foot down. Either you don't go or we go togeth-" She placed her fingers across his lips, shushing him and then kissed him softly.

"We need to proceed like he never told us anything so that his children have a better chance to survive this. I don't know about you but I love this man and I will not allow innocents to die because I was too much of a coward to face this thing," she told him softly, gently, as if she were explaining something difficult to a child.

It bothered him that it calmed him down. He wanted to bristle and argue but it was heard with her pressed against him, wedging him against the wall, kissing him. "The baby…" he protested weakly.

"…will be fine. It's within _me, _dear husband. And _I_ am not helpless."

"And your nightmares? What about them? The last time he tried to awaken you during one, you shot him in the ass with a crossbow," Alistair stubbornly reminded her.

She laughed and stroked his penis with her hand. She loved his penis. It was long and thick and covered in baby-soft skin. Even the blossom of blond curls that crowned it was baby-soft and oh so touchable. She loved simply touching his groin, fondling the hair and his member. He moaned and pressed the back of his head against the wall, his eyes shut tightly. "Things have, ah, changed between us since then and on top of it, he ran when I reached for the weapon. So…I think we'll be fine. And the dreams haven't been so bad of late. I find that odd. Refreshing but odd. The bottom line is that when we leave tomorrow, we will head there to begin the rescue of his children and you will speak to the Empress and maybe get us some help. Demons and Darkspawn and whatever else is there are not things I wish to face alone. That is why you must stay," she explained calmly, slowly, as she teased him with her touch.

She slid down his body and drew him into her mouth. He tried to ignore the sensations she was causing as her tongue worked its own spell of distraction. "I don't…like it…at all…" he grunted. She paused to smirk up at him and licked her lips. His fists clenched and he smacked the wall with the back of his head. It hurt.

"I've decided, my love. That's all there is to it." Her head lowered to his cock again and with an almost dainty touch, she proceeded to demonstrate just one of the many reasons he tolerated her insolence.

At that moment, Ambrose walked in with a generous tray of delectable dishes and sat it down on the table. His eyes widened at the sight before him and smiled. He didn't hesitate to shed his clothes and come up to Alistair, wrap his arms around him and kiss him long and hard as Elissa worked down below. For his part, Alistair didn't flinch and even slid an arm around the tall man. It shocked him that he was able to do this. Part of him was protesting loudly that this was a man he was kissing. The other part reminded him that it was making Elissa happy. Making Elissa happy trumped being his being skittish around a man. Elissa opened her eyes and, with a happy intake of breath, she noted the presence of another hardening member and licked that one as well. It was thicker, heavier than her husband and slightly shorter. The hair crowning it was thick and black, though neatly trimmed. She pleasured both men equally and passionately until they both came. It was messy and wonderful; a perfect excuse for a bath.

Later, they laid in the tub, the men side-by-side with Elissa stretched out, wedged in between. She was quite content to be in the center, practically purring with pleasure. "Just so you know, Ambrose, your plans have not changed and you and I are to proceed as you originally intended," Elissa said sweetly. Ambrose started protesting loudly. She covered his mouth with hers and murmured against his lips, "I already had this argument with Alistair and I won that one too. Trust me… You don't stand a chance." He stopped protesting as he saw Alistair shake his head slowly.

"Not worth injuring yourself trying to fight when she gets a hair up her ass over something. Just do what she says and we will all be better off for it. Then, if it blows up in her face, we'll both get to point and laugh as we say, 'told you so!'" That earned him a bubble-laden splash to his handsome face. He responded by sticking out his tongue. She splashed him again, getting it in his mouth. Sputtering, he chuckled and hugged her closely. She pretended to pout as he tried to kiss her and dodged his attempts, all while fighting a smile. That caused a water fight, which left them laughing and the floor covered in little, bubbly pools.

Eventually, they ended up on the couch, leaning against one another and dining on the meal Ambrose had brought. They were each wearing robes but the robes were open, displaying breasts and privates for anyone to gaze upon and touch. For Alistair, it was really quite liberating. He'd always enjoyed being naked in such a casual manner. "So… Ambrose, Elissa and I were wondering if, after all this is done, you have plans."

The tall Orlesian stretched out his bare legs and propped his them on the low table in front of the couch. It was his turn to be in the middle. Elissa had her cheek against his shoulder and Alistair was on the other side, his hand holding Ambrose's. "Hmm. Plans… I have my business I suppose. Veranon runs it just fine without me, though. I do all the foot-work. I really should hire someone to help me… Why do you ask?"

Alistair gripped his hand and squeezed it firmly. "We like you, Ambrose. Elissa and I have grown very fond of you and just can't really imagine being without you. Plus, it has the potential to keep this little vixen out of trouble… Oh and love? I _know_ about Anders. At least this way I know who she's fooling around with."

She bristled and was very thankful for Ambrose being in the middle otherwise, Alistair was going to get smacked. "Uh, _excuse me_ but you've been with other women since we've been together so don't play innocent with me. And Anders was a…very lovely accident. But we never went beyond being an accident."

"I'm not mad, Elissa. Much as I should be mad, I'm really just amused. I wish I could have watched, honestly… If you ever see Anders again…anyway, the bottom line is, Ambrose, we would like you return to Ferelden with us."

"M-me?" Ambrose stammered.

"You and your kids… Your wife…" Elissa added with a look at Alistair. Ambrose caught her gaze and hugged her.

"Non. No wife, Mon ce'aire. The divorce was final a month ago. I requested it right before the, er, events that sent me here occurred. I was shocked when Veranon rushed over to me waving the decree. He's been nagging me to leave her for years. I had forgotten, honestly. You…really want me to go back with you? Are you sure?"

Alistair bumped him with his shoulder and laughed. "Elissa gave me these big eyes and said, 'can we keep him? Huh huh?' and I'm a sucker for a pathetic face…" This time, she kneeled over Ambrose (planting her large breasts in his face as a result) and did smack her husband. Ambrose grabbed her and pulled her to him, pressing his face into her breasts with a sigh.

As he kissed her skin and caressed the softness of her feminine beauty, he marveled that this was exactly where he wanted to be. This was home. This was perfect. Both of these people, royalty from another land though they may be, were every bit his family. So, after teasing Elissa's left nipple to a juicy, red, erect point with his tongue, he turned his head and sensuously kissed her husband. Ambrose laid his hand against Alistair's face, caressing the rough, stubbled cheek as he slowly worked the other man's mouth with his lips. He still preferred kissing her but he closed his mind to everything save that this was Alistair, his friend, his beloved. Alistair kissed him back and enfolded both his companions into his powerful arms. "So…I guess I will," Ambrose breathed against Alistair's lips. Their activities degenerated from there.

They later took a tour of Val Royeaux in the back of a carriage. Ambrose showed them the most important buildings and statues, pointed out the cleverly named avenues and they stopped frequently to shop. Many times, ladies approached Ambrose and changed their minds as he slipped his arms around his lovers, kissing them each soundly. If the assumption was that he was with family, they were correct. If the assumption was that he was with his lovers, that too was correct.

Eventually, they settled down in a quaint bistro (far fancier than anything Alistair ever ate in) and ordered sandwiches and finger foods with the finest honey-wheat ale Alistair had ever drunk. Eventually, a fourth person joined them, apologizing profusely for being late. This man was an elf, fashionably dressed in Orlesian style. His hair was black with purple streaks in it, highlighting his face. It was short and spiked in the back with long bangs brushed to the side and long, shoulder-length locks in front of each pointed ear. He was tall for an elf and grinned cheerfully. Ambrose laughed and shoved a tankard of hazy, golden brew in the other man's hands. "Friends, this is Veranon. He is my mother, my secretary, my partner and my calendar all rolled into one. Without him, I doubt I could function."

Veranon laughed and took the others' hands in his, held them firmly and greeted them each warmly. The elf peered across the table at Elissa and grinned. "So _you_ are the reason the man loses an erection at the sight of other women. Now I see why. And you must be Alistair… I suppose if he must choose a man other than myself to play with, it should be you. In fact, lovely as you both are, I would very much like to make this a foursome…"

Elissa giggled into Alistair's shoulder as Ferelden's king sighed. "Don't tempt her. My wife loves multiple partners more than you can imagine." The giggling became hysterical. When the laughter died down, they ate and chatted about whatever came to mind. Veranon ragged on Ambrose and Ambrose teased Veranon about his obsession with breasts. Grinning, Elissa excused herself and extended a hand to Veranon. The tall elf accepted it and followed her to a broom closet near the kitchen. It was empty, save a handful of cleaning supplies.

"Perfect," Veranon said with a slight Orlesian accent. "I did want to speak to you alone…"

Elissa unlaced the front of her bodice, allowing the front to peel away nicely and exposed the soft mounds of her breasts. Veranon stared. "Ah…about…about the… You are doing this to be evil, non?"

She shrugged and leaned against the door. "That is beside the point. I wanted to see if it was true."

Veranon pushed himself up against her and touched her, cupping her breasts with his hands and sighed with his face between them. "I like what men have between their thighs but you remind me why women may yet have some redeeming qualities. These are perfect…" He tilted his head to the side and sucked on each nipple. For a fellow who liked, well, fellows, he certainly knew how to please a woman's breasts.

After several minutes of this intense, sweet torture, Veranon reluctantly backed away a bit and reached into a concealed pocket inside his shirt. "Ambrose is a lucky man. Anyway, he has asked me to give you this packet. Put it in a safe place…" he slid the thick envelope between Elissa's breasts and laughed at his own cleverness. She took it out and looked at it. "Do not open it unless…well, unless something happens to him. Everything is there. I may not be able to execute his wishes should he die so this packet ensures that his wishes, personal and legal, are met. I know it's not something you wanted to think about right now but it had to be done. He's waiting for death, you see."

Elissa paled and started lacing her dress back up with shaking fingers. Veranon stopped her and carefully laced up her bodice himself. He left a fair amount of cleavage visible, however and smiled at the bit of warm-hued areola showing along the edge of the lace. "What do you mean by that?" she gasped.

Veranon shrugged and hugged himself. "He is some five years away from being forced to answer _the calling_. I believe you're familiar with it. Anyway, he is terrified and I suspect he may do something foolish to ensure he doesn't have to deal with it. Of course, I would prefer that he come home in one piece but my opinion doesn't matter in this. Just do your best to keep him from martyring himself if you can. He has a strong noble-streak that could get him killed if he's not careful."

Elissa looked at the envelope and felt hot tears course down her cheeks. "I never imagined, never considered that he would be so close to that time in a Warden's life. He seems so young! So vibrant."

Veranon encircled her waist with his arms and hugged her. "Mmm. You should have met him fifteen years ago. You would have adored him. He was beautiful then… In the last five years, he's aged a lot. One part is his sad, pathetic wife and the rest is his fear of death. Well, dying anyway. But he's not the suicidal type. So he will probably choose to martyr himself rather than do anything obvious. Just…don't let it happen. You may not have a choice but still…"

She nodded and cried as Veranon opened the door to the dining room. He escorted her out and once they arrived at the table, she threw herself into Ambrose's arms, weeping. "Fool! What did you do to her?" Ambrose hissed at his partner as he tried to console Elissa. Alistair had left to visit the privy, fortunately.

"I told her to take care of you so that she won't _need_ to open that packet. Clearly, she agreed. That woman who loves you is my best insurance that you will survive this fiasco, go it?" Veranon hissed back. "I'm going to pay for lunch and depart. I will see you back in Lydes, ready to take an assignment soon as you return. Good luck, Mon ver'te." With that, Veranon bowed curtly and left them to pay for their meal and, Ambrose assumed, head back home.

Elissa suddenly hit Ambrose several times with the flat of her hand and threw the envelope into his lap. "What's the meaning of this? Huh? Are you _planning_ to die? _He_ seems to think so!" she cried tearfully. "In Denerim, we have a potion that could extend your life. I would be happy to give it to you if you asked but I cannot, _will not_ accept whatever _that_ is," she snapped at him, raising her hand to the packet now in Ambrose's stunned fingers. "I love you!" With those words, she stormed toward the door of the Bistro. Alistair, having missed everything, tried to ask her what the matter was but she hit him too and barked, "Leave me alone! Both of you!" She stormed out and entered the streets of Val Royeaux without a backward glance.

Alistair sidled up to a stunned Ambrose and laid a comradely arm across the taller man's shoulders. "Get used to it. She has a temper as hot as her hair is red. But, out of curiosity…what did you do?"

"I… Here. You take it. It's…in case something happens to me. It doesn't mean it will. It's just in case. As for what happened back there…Elissa thinks I'm planning to die because my assistant scared her. Damn him" Ambrose handed the envelope to Alistair as they walked to the door. The Orlesian opened it and waited for Alistair to exit before him. "Sometimes, Veranon is too efficient. I wanted to wait until a better time but…" Ambrose hugged himself as he looked around, hoping to see Elissa. He sighed forlornly "If she gets lost, I'll kill him myself."

Alistair chuckled and headed down the street a bit. "Do you have a flower shop here?"

"Eh? Von. Of course we do. Why?"

"Let's go. I know _exactly_ where to find her."

Ambrose, hopeful, led Alistair down a long, snow-lined street. People had descended early in the morning and shoveled away most of the snow and what they didn't clear, the sun was happily melting away. All around them, there was music, just like Leliana had once described. It wasn't classic courtly music either. This had a rhythm, a happy tempo and upbeat tone that brought the sounds of drums and lilting flutes arranged with stringed instruments of every kind. It was dancing music and it made Alistair smile. Hopefully, it filled Elissa with joy as well. Maker knows, she needed something to cheer her up, as angry as she was.

They arrived at the flower shop a short time later and Ambrose blinked with disappointment. "She isn't here," he murmured.

Alistair smiled and gave him a gentle shove, sending him deeper into the heady scent of the shop. "Buy a bunch of flowers. Scented. Heavily scented like Lilies and roses. I'll get some too. She's a sucker for floral arrangements." A young woman approached them with a smile and a few minutes later, each man was carrying a bundle, distinct and unique from the other, filled with exotic blooms, many of which Alistair had never seen before. As expensive as they were, he hoped she liked them. At least, with the bribes, he didn't _think _she would hit him again.

The two men then followed Alistair's instinct through the city. That instinct led them to something the Orlesians were very proud of. At its heart, Val Royeaux was home to one of the most beautiful pleasure gardens in Orlais and it was certainly unlike anything Alistair had ever seen. After much walking along a path that must have looked heavenly in spring, a pool sat in frozen glory, surrounded by benches and tall shrubs. Trees, skeletal now, adorned the narrow paths and statutes greeted them from many places. In the creaking, ice-sheathed branches were wind chimes, singing soft tunes in the breeze. Alistair made a mental note to buy some of them to place in the Queen's Garden. They made the place truly magical.

It was under what must have been a glorious tree that they found Elissa lying on a bench. Laughing, Alistair walked over to her and tried to roust her from what looked like an ordinary nap. But when he lifted her into his arms, her eyes were wide open, unblinking, lost. He shouted her name, shook her. "What's the matter, Mon'cir?" Ambrose asked, sliding onto the bench so that Elissa was now partly in his lap.

Alistair was on the ground, kneeling as he held her. "It's a nightmare. It has a grip on her and I can't shake her loose. You need to help me! Crack open the ice on that pool and get me some water. She'll get lost in the Fade if we don't help her now!"

_Lost in the fade?_ No! _The demons will tear her to shreds!_ Ambrose blinked and then, tears blinding him, he ran to the pool. With a silent prayer to the Maker for luck, he withdrew his dagger, his only weapon at present, and raised it, pommel down, above the ice…

To Be Continued


	27. Chapter 27

**Tainted Dreams **

**Part 27**

_**Word of caution:** This chapter contains graphic, disturbing, very violent images and some mild sex. _

_Well, some 5 chapters ago, I went off on a tangent because I felt it would be necessary for character development and a chance for you all to catch a glimpse of Ambrose at his best. I think I have succeeded at what I attempted to do but maybe I was also desperate to allow these fine people a chance to bond before I split them up. This is the part of the story where I struggle to write through my tears._

_Enjoy._

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**Bittersweet Goodbyes**

_The body of Arl Rendon Howe lies at her feet in a pool of blood. At last, the deed is done. He's dead. Elissa, now freed of a blood oath sworn on her parents' still-breathing bodies as she fled her home, stands with her sword lowered and her head held low. It all seemed rather anticlimactic, really. Howe wasn't even a particularly good fighter. He'd had the inflated opinion that he was better than he was, which had given him a boost to his determination and that might have kept him alive for a BIT longer. But in the end, he lay dead at her feet regardless._

_With tears in her eyes and remorse for the lives she'd taken, Elissa turns away to find Alistair. Suddenly, something has her by the ankle, preventing her from moving. She looks down and gasps at the bloody hand that holds her firm. She kicks at it and tries to free herself but to no avail. Finally, she sweeps the edge of her sword down, severing the hand at the wrist. She kicks the twitching thing away and tries to keep going when she hears a familiar voice behind her._

_Slowly, she turns and gasps as Howe stands unsteadily, his bloody stump dripping blood from where his hand was. His face is pale in contrast to the blood splattered across it and he is sneering at her, his hawk-like features uglier in death than she ever recalled in life. "You-you're dead! Don't make me kill you again!" she says, her sword raised and her heart chilled by the sight of him. The irony of her statement is not lost on her as she stares at him._

_His laughter is chilling. It shakes her to her core and forces her to stagger backwards. He reaches out with his good hand and takes her by her wrist. The grip is hard and painful; his flesh cold and lifeless, like his eyes. "You've killed your fair share, haven't you, Elissa Cousland? And you just keep killing!"_

_She tries to pull away but she is held fast. Her sword is raised and a flash of light flares from its keen edge as she severs the other hand. It maintains its grip, however, refusing to let go. "No! I killed only those who would have taken my life or the lives of others!"_

_Howe advances on her, his stumps spilling blood as he moves closer. He wraps his arm painfully around her neck, forcing her to look at the disembodied faces of hundreds of young men and women. "Look, Elissa! Do you see those people? Those are the lives you have taken or been responsible for in some way over the years since you became a Grey Warden. There are innocent lives there, too; children are among them! All of the denizens of Lothering and all those who died in the massacre at Redcliffe…they are all there. They are people with families and lives of their own. They had jobs. They had a past, and a present but no future. All thanks to you. Don't you feel proud? What kind of 'hero' kills those she is sworn to prtect?"_

_She screams and tries to cut away the vision with her sword. Hundreds of decapitated heads tumble down around her and on top of her, their bloody neck-stumps splattering her with blood and gore. "I only killed those who deserved to die…!" she howls, trying in vain to dislodge the handless arm bleeding on her. Like a parasite, the detached hand clings to her, hurting her arm, sharp nails digging through her armor and spilling her blood._

_Howe's breath smells of death and rot as he spits his words out at her. "That is a lie and you know it! A good excuse doesn't make it any less an excuse. You are a cold-blooded killer! A murderer! You could have saved so many lives by staying in Lothering and helping the people face their fate but instead, you fled. You fled!"_

"_We had to move onward. We didn't know that Lothering would be taken by the Darkspawn so soon after we left. We had to pursue the treaties in order to gather the army we needed to defeat the horde. I-I had no choice!" She is weeping bitter tears that mingle with the blood splattered across her face. It runs down her cheeks and stains her skin. _

"_You should have never left your parents' side. You should have stayed and helped fight off their killers but instead you took the easy way out. You…cheated," Howe presses, as if knowing her deepest, darkest guilt. It echoes the worst of her terrible fears, causing them to solidify and gain strength within her, causing her to doubt her own reasons for leaving. Duncan had been forced to conscript her in those last, terrifying moments but that never erased the doubt from her heart that she should have stayed. Weeping, she whirls and slices Rendon Howe's head clean from his shoulders with one arcing sweep of her sharp sword. His body sags against her and slides into a pool of blood under him as his head rolls a short distance away, rocking on its cheek though the sneer remains and his eyes remain fixed on her. "You killed them, Elissa. You left them to die. Yet you blamed me… What a pity. You never deserved to be Teyrna, anyway. You were too weak! You are…a failure."_

_She screams and raises the sword high, slamming the sharp edge into his face, hacking at it until no expression remains. Blood sprays her, cold and crisp and when she would have retreated into darkness, a darkness that whispered to her of a pain-free existence, she is pulled into painful, bitter light. She fights it, struggling against feeling and pain; regret and rage. "No! No! I don't want to return. Please! Let me go back to the dark!" She is cold, colder than she can ever remember being and it is a terrifying sensation. _

_Somewhere in the dark, something shrieks its rage at the loss of such a valuable soul..._

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"Non, Mon ce'aire. Drink. There…you are safe now," a gentle voice of highly accented Orlesian said to her softly. She felt cold, her body drenched in icy water and her mind bereft of thought. "We tried soaking your face with the water but you started screaming instead of coming out of the nightmare so we were forced to dunk your whole body instead. Ah, lashante!" A blanket enveloped her and hands lifted her into a carriage. There were many people, all gazing at her compassionately and waving as the two men joined her, their bodies forming a barrier of love between her and the bitter cold but the memory of the horrific dream remained. Comforted by their loving embrace and the even motion of the gently rocking carriage, she swiftly faded into the welcome arms of dreamless sleep.

A while later, she awoke to the sensation of a wonderfully naked man holding her gently around her ribs. Startled, she jumped and reached for a pillow to use as a weapon. Ambrose leaned over her and gently took her hand in his. She dropped the pillow as recognition dawned. "Shh, shh. 'Tis only me, Mon ce'aire. 'Tis only me."

Her eyes darted about the room. "Where's Alistair?" she asked in a small voice.

The tall Orlesian held her against him. "He has gone to chat with the Marquis. I was instructed to take care of you as if you were the most important thing in my life. And I do because you are." Elissa sighed and snuggled against him. Then the tears started to come and she held him tightly, clinging against him as if he were a lifeline.

"The-the nightmare! It was Rendon Howe. He-he called me a murderer! There were…horrible images. People dying and blood everywhere. Oh, Ambrose, I have the blood of so many people on my hands…! So many people, so many lives have been lost because of me and now your children are depending on me and if they die too…!" She was sobbing against him, her small fists clenched against him and her face filled with so much anguish that Ambrose felt his own eyes well with her grief. He pulled her against him, his hands gently stroking her back, his voice whispering sweet things in Orlesian to her. He started singing little lullabies to her as he rocked her in his arms.

When her sobs quieted, he pushed her back gently. His fingers curled about her chin as he raised her tear-streaked face so that their eyes met. "This Howe… He is the man who massacred your family, non? And in your nightmare, 'tis he who claims you the killer? That is an evil man whose deeds show him to be the cretin that he is. Nightmare or non, I would not listen to a word that man says. You see, in life, you do what must be done. You slay those unworthy of this gift of life because, for whatever reason, they have earned it. Does it make the deed right? Maybe. Or non. But the fact remains that death, when it comes, comes when it is time. For some of us, it is sooner and others have time yet. You must not blame yourself for every life lost, directly or indirectly to your actions. You would become useless under such weight as that would cause emotionally. Do you understand?"

"But…!" she said, starting to protest. He silenced her the best way he could for that moment: he kissed her deeply. After several moments of gentle passion, he whispered against her skin, "Mon ce'aire… Think of the many millions more lives that you did save by letting just a handful of others perish. To this world, and to me, you are a hero."

As she went to hug him in gratitude, her baby chose that moment to begin kicking violently inside her. It was painful and caused her to shift about, searching for a comfortable way to sit or lay. Ambrose held up his hand and smiled. "I'll handle that. There is a little trick to these things," he said cheerfully. He ran off to collect some items from the dresser and when he returned, he had a towel and a bottle of oil. "Lay back. Yes, I know it hurts but trust me. I'll bet your breasts are sore as well, hm? I can take care of that, too. You are not yet six months along… My wife was not this large and she was not a slender woman. No offense!" he murmured at Elissa's expression.

He poured the oil all over the skin of her breasts and belly. It tickled as it slid across her skin. He instructed her to close her eyes and enjoy and then, slowly, he began to knead. His fingers gently dug into her flesh, feeling the tiny body floating within her. There wasn't much yet to feel but he was concerned. A woman like her should be showing prominently but hers was the belly of a woman well past her sixth month, not some weeks from approaching it. His opinion was that she carried more than one, especially as he kneaded both sides of her belly and felt tiny movements on all sides. His hands then worked her breasts, carefully massaging them and caressing them. A bead of milk trickled down the side of one breast and he sighed. He had loved his wife's pregnancies for that very reason. Mother's milk was sweet and rich with a unique flavor and Elissa was just now starting to produce it.

He leaned over one nipple and tasted the next drop of milk that he managed to release. It was just as he remembered. Unfortunately, spending all this time on her breasts was arousing him. The massage was very close to becoming sexual and he didn't think that would be wise. "No…don't stop…" she moaned.

He laughed and kissed her soundly before carefully drying the oil off her skin. "If you are as aroused as I am, good. If you are up to it, the Marquis is insisting we visit one of his favorite and most expensive adult entertainment venues. It is called, 'Le Capturat Luxúria', The Captured Lust. It is a favorite of mine, actually. All the performers are contortionists who position themselves within small cages for the benefit of those walking around. They are completely naked of course and it is expected for you to take liberties with them. "

Elissa sat up and accepted the robe he offered her. "'Liberties?' You mean touch them?"

He laughed as he helped her from the bed. "In the very least! I will say that the cages are on various levels so that you can do more than, ah, merely touch them. It was inspired by various entertainments in Antiva, interestingly enough. Those… Those make anything we have here seem tame. And it features a fantastic buffet! Ah…! Mon'cir returns!" Ambrose walked up to Alistair and bestowed a passionate kiss upon his lips before dancing off to privy to clean himself up.

Alistair hugged her and kissed her softly. His arms around her, he spoke softly into her red hair, asking her how she was, how she felt, the little things. His questions were comforting to her beleaguered heart and made her think about so much more than the nightmare. "So, the Marquis wants to open a business in Denerim. Something for the, ah, adult entertainment crowd. He thinks there's a market for it, especially with the Pearl being so popular. He knows about the Pearl and he thinks it is rather dull. What do you think?"

She snuggled against the soft fabric covering his broad chest and said, "hmm?"

"The Marquis' business idea. I guess we're going to an example of what he wants tonight. Then…I guess we go to sleep, wake up and…you leave. Then I have my audience with Celene, who has offered to be our host for the remainder of our stay. Elissa… Are you sure you want to follow through with this plan? I think it's crazy. You should wait for me to organize the fighters we need…"

She kissed him softly. "To keep his children safe, we must pretend that there is no change. We must hurry if we are to succeed."

"If something happens to you, I'll break his face…"

"You will do nothing of the sort. You love him."

Alistair sighed and leaned his face against her shoulder. She was right, of course. "That confuses me. For me, I have never desired men. Only women. And I never thought I could love anyone but you. I just think it's strange that touching him is wonderful to me while the thought of touching other men is offensive. Maybe it's you or maybe I'm not as straight as I thought."

Ambrose smiled at the pair enfolded in one another's arms. "Get dressed and let's go play, Mon ce'aires! Have I an experience to show or what?"

After dressing somewhat provocatively, they headed out to the place and found that it was full of cages hung at varying heights, just as Ambrose claimed. They were filled with men and women in a variety of impossible positions, all for the sake of presenting genitals and breasts for observers to fondle or taste or what have you. There were no rules save to exercise gentleness and civility. Each caged contortionist had a handler and that handler assisted them out of their confinement every few minutes for breaks and the chance to mingle with guests. It was as if a twisted art collector had assembled living human and elfin statues for the sake of entertainment and stuck them in cages. They clearly enjoyed what they did as they beckoned to the observers and made suggestions, many of which were bold and quite delicious. Alistair, Ambrose noted, was quite popular with the women. And Elissa had gained the attention of both men and women. She appeared to enjoy the attention and the freedom to touch them at will. The food, of course, was fantastic in its array and creativity.

When they returned to the Marquis' estate following the entertainment of the evening, they fell into the big bed and made love. There was no rhyme or reason to it. There were no rules governing who touched what or how. Hands, lips and cocks intertwined, caressed and dipped into whatever orifice presented its self. It was passion, raw and desperate that drove them to this. It was love and need; lust and the knowledge that something bad could happen, that someone could die if things went badly. They wept as they clung to one another and Ambrose begged them each to forgive him over and over. Elissa didn't understand why but she did her best to reassure him that he had nothing to ask forgiveness for.

They fell into the sweat-soaked sheets with a sigh, Alistair's powerful arms spread wide and his wife on one side, his beloved on the other as they drifted into an exhausted slumber. They awoke to the dawn curled about one another, arms and legs entwined and bodies as close as humanely possible. It was more than dawn to them; it was a harbinger of farewell. Alistair initiated a final, impassioned romp that culminated in a chain with Elissa at its front, Alistair making love to her from behind and Ambrose riding his hips behind. They came as one, both crying and crying out their passion as one and curled their bodies closely together as the waning darkness of night slowly gave way to morning light.

Elissa smiled and traced the curve of her husband's face with her fingers. "I love you," she whispered. Alistair smiled and kissed her deeply. "I wish you didn't have to go…" Alistair replied. Pressed against them, Ambrose murmured, "That makes two of us…"

She brushed away both their tears and kissed each man in turn before rising to get dressed in her armor. The men held one another tightly a short time longer and kissed eachother softly, passionately. It was, in part, a test to see if they needed Elissa between them to seal the bond they shared. It surprised them both to know that though she was the catalyst, once they were sealed together, she wasn't necessary as the glue. "I love you, Mon ce'aire…" Alistair whispered through his tears to Ambrose. The other man kissed the salty fluid that coursed down Alistair's cheeks before kissing his open mouth.

"I love you, too…Mon ce'aire. Stay safe and do not forget me while I am gone. I plan to return to Denerim with you both, after all," came Ambrose's throaty voice, hoarse from crying. He tried to laugh but failed miserably.

They finally rose and dressed in the cloudy gloom of yet another snow-filled morning. Elissa had a bag packed with items given to them by the Marquis for the journey and her weapons strapped to her back. These items had been sent up from the Inn in Lydes as they would not be returning. Additional items such as soup mixes and a sealed package of bread, cheese and snacks had been given to them by the estate chef. "My love? Are you ready?" she asked Ambrose. He was garbed head to foot in thick black leather armor. He looked deadly with his glowing blades and haunted expression. Ambrose quietly took her hand and bestowed a final kiss to Alistair before shoving Elissa into her husband's arms. The pair kissed as Ambrose encircled them both in a massive hug.

They parted with bittersweet tears but no words of farewell or luck. To say anything, it seemed would jeopardize their resolve and make an impossible task even harder or possibly even jinx its success. Ambrose took Elissa's hand and they headed north to the Imperial Highway for a journey that would take some two days or so, no more. The destination was a village that existed only in the minds and hearts of those who had fled but was now occupied by demons, Darkspawn and a small army of Malificar and blood mages.

Somewhere in the distance, the sinister laughter of a powerful Pride Demon could be heard…

To be continued…

This is the last of the so-called fun chapters… Now it gets rough.


	28. Chapter 28

**Tainted Dreams**

**Part 28**

_And thus this chapter begins the final parts of Tainted Dreams. Rest assured that the story will continue in a massive sequel that is mostly plotted so fear ye not, faithful readers. We have about 5 more chapters here to go in Tainted and then onward to the Sequel! This is the longest thing I have ever written and I have loved every minute of it. Thank you for being there for me. Also, a friend, __**Karakot **__here on , has been instrumental in this and the later chapters yet to come. Also, __**Tropicalfool**__, you're awesome! Thanks for all your help. No violence, some creative use of the "f-word" and some vanilla sex and heavy petting. Just a caution as usual._

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**Village of Pain, Part 1**

**Garrik and the Road**

Alistair entered the Imperial Palace of Orlais with his eyes wide and his chin held high. Marquis Toulan D'Moronet smiled at Alistair's awe-struck gaze and gripped his arm to steer him through the regal hall. The palace was made of highly polished, very expensive marble with gilt pillars and statues throughout. In spite of the wintry weather, fresh flowers were everywhere, giving the place a freshness and warmth that it would otherwise lack. Carpets lined the gleaming floors and colorful tapestries did their best to hold in the bitter cold emanating from the walls.

They were greeted by a petite, one might say "tiny" woman wearing a long, heavily beaded gown that would have qualified as a ball gown or even a wedding gown in Ferelden. It was peach and white, trimmed in shimmering gold lame with a square bodice and her small breasts perched high atop a narrow, elongated waist. Her long hair was done in a fall of exquisite strawberry blond ringlets that she wore pulled away from her face. A glittering tiara topped her head, making a futile attempt to corral her curls. Her heart-shaped face rested atop a long neck that was encircled by multiple strands of creamy, peach-hued pearls.

She practically bounced up to the Marquis with a little girl's enthusiasm and threw her arms about his neck. She kissed each cheek before turning to Alistair. He was struck by just how different she was from his wife. This frail creature could almost be elfin, she was so delicate. But as he looked more closely, he found in her strength of spirit that would have been Elissa's equal. This was the girl who, at eighteen, deposed a regime and outwitted both the rightful heirs to the throne before claiming it for herself. She took his hands and smiled sweetly.

"I am Celene. Welcome to Val Royeaux and to Orlais. Come, this hall is terribly drafty this time of year. My study is much warmer and has a lovely fireplace. Marquis, will you be staying?" Celene said in heavily accented Orlesian with a smile at him. He blushed, utterly smitten. She had that effect on men and she knew it.

"Non, non. I came merely to escort His Majesty to you. Now that he is safely within your competent hands, I shall take my leave." He smiled and bowed over her hand, his lips brushing her tiny fingers.

"It was a pleasure to see you again, Marquis…" she murmured as he seemed to struggle with something he wanted to do. He looked at Alistair before leaning in and kissing her neck slowly. "The pleasure was mine, _Mon Ellei_…" the Marquis breathed against her skin as he slowly drew away, a smile on his face. Alistair could feel the sexual tension between them and smiled. So, the Empress got around, did she? Maybe she had more in common with Elissa than he thought!

She led him through the seemingly endless hall and through two more passages before finally coming to a suite of rooms that made the royal apartment in Denerim look like a room at a squalid inn. It had three bedrooms, a sitting area, the office they were now entering and a formal eating area. Her office, thankfully, was not unlike his own office back home and featured a large fireplace that happily crackled away as it gave off its warmth. As he looked around, Alistair was caught by the sight of a grand portrait of King Cailan, his handsome face eternally preserved in grinning repose on canvass. It was quite large and she had surrounded it with wall-hung tapers. They shed light onto his amused expression and made him seem more alive than he ever had in real life.

Celene came to stand by Alistair and she touched his hand as she followed his gaze. "Hm. Yes, it is your brother. It is a fine likeness, don't you think?"

Alistair smiled up at the brother he wished he'd known better than he did. In the portrait, Cailan seemed to be hiding a secret, something he was proud of. The artist captured his blue eyes and charm beautifully. "He sat there, laughing at me the entire time! And, I should add, he was nude. It was my first encounter with him outside of signing treaties and the like. Hm. Such a ruse I used to get him naked and in my rooms…he fell for it without complaint and a great deal of laughter. The painting turned out well, I think. My art teacher said I was a quick study. Do you like it?"

Ferelden's king was startled. "You painted this? That's amazing! Yes, I like it a great deal. There's so much movement, so much emotion there…"

She smiled and leaned against Alistair, her tiny fingers entwining in his. "I loved him very much. This portrait…when it was finished, he rose to dress and before he could so much as don his shirt, I was naked to my waist. It was all the invitation he needed and before we knew, he was kissing me and carrying me to my bed. He was so…starved. He made love to me with the passion of man eating for the first time in months. Ah, it was glorious…"

"Hm, so the rumors of his affair were true then. I'd wondered…" Alistair murmured, fully aware of how close he was to the petite empress. She then reached past his hand and grabbed his cock through his Orlesian finery. He yelped and danced away, laughing and blushing. "My lady! That-that was _not_ my hand."

"Oh? How silly of me. Surely I meant to grab your hand… Shall I try again?" she said with a teasing smile.

He shook his head, the red color of his cheeks now down to his neck. "No, that's good. Just stay there. Ah…"

She came around to his side of the desk and pushed herself up against him. He would have retreated save that the desk was pressed up against the wall on that side and he was boxed in. Her hand moved between them, stirring his desire and making him quiver against his will. "I'm very happily married, Empress… I can't, won't, with you. I love my wife. If she were here…doubtless you would get what you're asking for but I just can't." She was too close, too pretty and he was too attracted. Her hands were skilled, his breathing quickened and he broke out in a sweat.

It was too much. Alistair jumped up onto the desk, scattering papers and ink bottles in his wake. His pants were open, his solid member bouncing out her reach. He quickly stuffed himself back together and pressed his back against the opposite wall. "Empress Celene, this is highly inappropriate. You were my brother's lover and the notion of sleeping with you is just…creepy. No offense but I won't. I can't."

She sighed and as she leaned against the desk, the top of her bodice was allowed to slip ever so slightly. It exposed a swell of creamy-hued breast and the circle of her pale pink nipple. Then, as he noticed it, she pouted at him. He closed his eyes and turned away with a hoarse-sounding, "please…don't."

"Oh, you are no fun! No fun at all. You Fereldens are so pathetically antisocial, it is sad to me. So, work only and no play, yes?" she spat at him in irritation.

Alistair cast her a pained look and nodded. "If my wife was here, it might be different but alone, it just feels too much like…cheating. I am here because I need your help, Empress."

She laughed and sat in her chair. "You refuse me and then have the gall to ask me for aid?" she asked bitterly.

He was growing angry. Bristling, he said, "It wasn't personal, my lady! You're very pretty and yes, I would have, in a heartbeat! But only if Elissa could be here. Now please hear me out."

Celene leaned forward, her narrow chin perched in the cup of her tiny hand. Her glittering violet eyes pierced him as sure as any arrow to the heart. "I will listen but unless it affects Orlais in particular, I will not consider your request."

He moaned and threw himself into the nearest chair. "My lady, it does affect Orlais…it affects us all. In a village not far from here, a demon has taken the body of a mage and…"

"Yes, yes. The village was destroyed, the people either killed or fled but all reports indicate that the incident is isolated and nobody has heard a peep from it in weeks. No doubt the danger has passed. I will not give you aid for a false alarm," she told him, her expression indignant and a cold smile on her lips.

He shot up to his feet, lines creasing between his brows as he stood, furious at her stubbornness. "Is this because I wouldn't bed you? Isn't this a bit extreme for an honest refusal of unwanted sex?" he yelled back at her.

She was on her feet a moment later, her eyes flashing angrily. "Until I have word of something much worse, you will have to seek your aid elsewhere. You will be welcome here as a guest but I will not send aid to an abandoned village based on hearsay."

Alistair started to say something, started to shout at her but instead, he shoved his fist against a marble wall, wincing as his hand smarted with the impact. Celene sighed and, smiling ruefully, she walked around to his side. She took his fist in her small hands and guided him out of the office. "I cannot send troops unless there is something definitive that Orlais is in danger. Please understand my situation."

She guided him to a splendid suite of rooms and smiled sweetly as he sat in a chair within the elegant sitting room. She dropped to his side and kissed his cheek, then his bruised fist. "I will send a scout in the morning. For now, I shall fetch for you a healer. Punching the marble is generally considered a bad idea, even among you big men." She kissed his cheek a final time and left him with her scent and her soft touch in her wake.

* * *

Two days later, Elissa sat on a rock just north of Val Royeaux where she and Ambrose had camped for the night. He was bathing in the cold water of a stream and stood in about thigh-deep water. His skin glistened with wetness and his hair shone in the mid-morning light. He was striking to behold, even as thin as he'd become in the weeks following their departure from Ferelden. He was not eating very well and seemed to be constantly stressed over something. She understood. She could feel his agony. At night, when he though she was sleeping, she would hear him weeping.

As she watched him, a smile teasing her lips, he turned his lean back to her, the white scars of his earlier torment raised against his tanned flesh. He must have been quite bloody when they finished whipping him. "Do you ever wonder if what we plan to do is even possible?" she asked him softly.

He peered over his sun-kissed shoulder at her, a thick eyebrow raised. "Hm. You mean the foolish notion that we can actually face our challenges and succeed in one piece?" he replied carefully.

Elissa rolled her eyes and looked away. "That answers that question. You really do think it's hopeless, do you?"

Her tall lover shrugged and splashed his face one final time with both palms before making his way to the water's edge. He carefully climbed the bank, his hands gripping handfuls of grass to aid his ascent. "I am not a betting man," he said with a twisted half-smile as he came to stand in front of her. His long fingers curled underneath her elbows to gently raise her to her feet. He was standing very close, his hair dripping water onto her pale skin. Ambrose leaned in and slowly covered her mouth with his in a long, sensual kiss that sent shivers down her spine. His kisses should have been illegal, so bewitching were they.

He then placed his fingers in the small of her back, near the curve of her round bottom and drew her even closer. Her arms curled around his neck, pulling herself up higher against his body. His other arm embraced her upper body so that his tall, naked and undeniably wet body was pressed against hers, soaking her thin shirt and sleeping pants. He was unmistakably aroused by what he was doing to her as evidenced by the firm length of pressure against her belly. Elissa giggled when his fingers lightly tickled the back of her neck as he moved his hand to cup the back of her head. Ambrose was clearly encouraging her to make love to him and he was winning. She gave in and allowed him to lower her gently to the soft grass near the stream's edge.

Very slowly, he pulled her pants down and set them aside. Her shirt he opened, displaying her full breasts and round belly. Due to the unmistakable winter chill in the air, her nipples were almost painfully hard. Grinning, his eyes locked on hers, he ran his fingers down her body, caressing her lightly, teasingly as they went. "I am in love with you, Elissa…" he said as he smiled down at her, his blue eyes crinkling at the edges with humor. "Being with you can compare to no other experience in my life and certainly no women can come close. You are the end for me. I am smitten. I am hooked. I am yours…"

She reached up and grabbed his face with her hands, pulling his mouth down onto hers. He laughed and kissed her in return, his arms embracing her as he carefully pulled her into a kneeling position and then into his lap. She straddled his hips as he entered her from the front, their pelvises slowly rolling against one another. There was no space between them, so close their bodies were. If two bodies could truly be described as merged into one, their bodies were. When their lips parted long enough for Elissa to draw a breath, the words, "I love you…" could be heard as she exhaled against his mouth. There were no more words that she could say and nothing else that conveyed as much meaning. They were all that was necessary and it was enough.

Sometime later, the sun higher in the sky and the chill air a bit warmer than it had been in recent weeks, they curled up in the patch of sunny grass and watched the clouds dance across the sky. It was quite chilly but their naked bodies kept each other warm enough. Ambrose, during those moments after coitus, had this delightful habit of absently touching whatever skin was closest to his hand. He was also a kisser. His lips were constantly in contact with her smooth skin as he stroked her breasts and ran his long fingers against the swell of her abdomen. He wasn't exclusive to her either. He did it to Alistair as well and her husband grudgingly admitted he liked Ambrose's love-making techniques and had even picked up a few of them. Between the two, Elissa's nights had been, if briefly, more exciting. But now it was just him and things were different.

One on one, Ambrose was much more sedate, much more sensitive. He held her and stroked her as if he feared losing her, which was utterly ridiculous. He whispered endearments and nuzzled her behind her ears and spoke wondrous things to her in Orlesian. She hadn't a clue what any of it meant but the way he said them made her hungry for more. That was when she realized they had whiled away much of the morning with no end in sight. He appeared to be stalling.

She rose to her feet and slipped out of his reaching arms. "Come on. We have a journey to complete and the longer we mess around, the later it will be when we arrive." Elissa set about donning her complex armor; a collection of plate, chain and scale armors all merged together into something that could expand with her growing belly. The scale-plates were much further apart these days. She stepped outside the tent and watched Ambrose slowly cleaning up the site. He was still naked and still stalling.

"Love, quit stalling. We have to reach the village before nightfall and-"

"No. I'm not going to do this. I cannot do this! Do you hear me, you bitch?" he cried to the sky. "I _refuse_ to do this! We are turning around and I am not putting Elissa into danger, my own family be damned!" He reached for her arm and she dodged him. "Let's get camp broken down and go back to Val Royeaux." he said to her.

"Are you mad?" she snapped at him. "We have a plan and we'll follow it. I won't let your family come to more harm than they may have already endured! "

Ambrose picked up her shirt and pants and angrily threw them into a bag. "I don't care anymore. This can only end badly and Alistair's extra fighters should have been here by now. I will not put your life at risk by letting you anywhere near that village. It's too dangerous! Do you hear me?"

She picked up her sword and shield, hooked them onto her back and stared at him in disbelief. "You are telling me that something is too dangerous for me? _Me?_ _Me_, the woman who led an army against the Blight and stood up to untold dangers in Amaranthine? Do you not know to whom you speak? _Me_, the so-called 'Hero of Ferelden!' I didn't earn that title by acting like a shrinking violet every time danger reared its head!" Her voice was growing shrill with anger and her skin burned with mounting rage. How dare he assume that something was too dangerous for her!

Ambrose sighed and rubbed his face with his hand. He was trying to remain calm even in the firestorm of her anger. He knew he was playing with lava by angering this petite young woman but he had made a promise to her husband. "It's not just you anymore, _Mon ce'aire_. Alistair, he-"

"You and Alistair can just _fuck yourselves_! I don't need _your_ protection or _anyone's_ protection. I am a strong, brave woman and an unparalleled fighter. The day I can't rescue two people is the day I need to retire! Now, I am leaving, with our without you!" She turned on her heel and struck off in the direction of the village, which lay only a few hours north of where they were. It would not be hard to find but Ambrose didn't want her to get there at all.

"Elissa! Elissa, you maddening woman, come back!" Ambrose shouted at her retreating form.

She stopped and turned to look at him. "Make me…" she growled as she turned away again and set off, unburdened save her personal gear. He was at a distinct disadvantage since she had left the entire camp un-packed and the fire still smoldering. He had yet to dress. Cursing in Orlesian, Ambrose set about dressing and broke down the camp. To add insult to injury, the clouds marching across the sky earlier had soon born with them larger, moisture-filled cousins who were determined to saturate Veranon to his bones.

He did get camp pulled and disseminated the ashes upon the privy-pit before scattering the rest. In a short time, Ambrose had their gear packed up on his back and he was following in the rain-erased footsteps of his lover.

It was, perhaps, two hours after he'd set off that he peered through the rain and spotted a solitary figure dressed in a Templar's kilt and plate armor. Something was pressed up against a tree he was using for shelter. Its bare branches offered poor cover from the cold, driving drops but it was better than nothing. Ambrose assumed it was a pack. The big man marched forward to meet Ambrose part-way.

He walked up the tall, powerfully-built Templar and happily took his hand. "Garrik! You're still here?"

The Templar had a strong, booming voice that reminded Ambrose of every fictitious "hero" he'd ever seen portrayed in stage productions. When one asked, "what does a Fereldan hero talk like?" the answer, in Ambrose's mind, was that he should talk like Garrik Frakes, hero of nothing and rogue Templar whose fate would end in the gallows should he ever be caught. "The bitch lets me run loose, knowing I can't do a damn thing to her. My blade has a date with her neck but she keeps standing me up. More's the pity. So, my friend, I was curious…did you lose something?"

"Did I lose…?" Ambrose started as Garrik stepped aside. Behind him, screaming as loud as the gag would allow, was Elissa. She was seated on the ground at the tree-base with a thick roll of cloth tied tightly around her head and wedged inside her mouth. Her hands were tied behind her back. Eyes flashing and her red mane, wet and flailing wildly, she shrieked muffled obscenities. "Ah. Well, you want to untie her?" he asked with a raised eyebrow and making no movement in her direction.

Garrik laughed in his booming baritone. "Not on your life! She bites, you know."

To be continued!


	29. Chapter 29

**Tainted Dreams**

**Part 29**

_Thanks to __**Karakote**__ for being a sounding board and helping me plot this chapter just as you are reading it now. It was plotted way back in November so you understand how it's been eating at me ever since. She has been an indispensible asset. This chapter has a bit of violence._

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**Village of Pain, Part 2**

**Captured!**

Ambrose crouched down before Elissa and smiled at her, a safe distance between the raging red-headed girl and himself. "Garrik, why did you intercept us?" he asked as he reached out to her. She kicked out at his hand and he yelped as he snatched it back. She was very pissed off at him. She rather reminded him of a tied-up Mbari Warhound he once considered taking pity on before it tried to remove his face with its teeth. He guessed the outcome would be much the same if she were set loose.

The proud Templar stood tall, hands on his hips and seemingly oblivious to the storm raining around them. "I found out what she plans on doing with the Commander and it's not pretty. In fact, it means a certain death for all of us. I came to advise you to stay away! I have a…arrangement worked out that should protect your kids 'til you can get help here. Trust me…this is bad."

Elissa's wide, teal eyes snapped back and forth between the men's faces. She kept trying to ask something, something which was made unintelligible by the gag. Ambrose, still crouched near her, looked askance at her flushed face. "_Mon ce'aire_, my sweet, do you promise not to force my testicles up my nose if I untie you?" he asked with a chuckle. She tilted her head to the side and gave him a look he thought didn't guarantee the possibility. Bravely, he thought, he removed the gag and she immediately started swearing.

When the tirade was over, Ambrose was sitting back on his heels, watching her, the Templar hovering over his shoulder. She felt like an exotic animal in a zoo as the two men observed her. "Will you _please _untie my hands?" she snapped.

"And watch you run off and get yourself killed? I think not," the Templar said. "You need to know what she plans to do with you. Or more specifically, your babies."

She had had enough. Elissa squeezed shut her eyes and muttered, "Fine! I won't go anywhere, okay? I swear it." Ambrose reached out and carefully undid the elaborate knot binding her hands together. She reached out to him and he embraced her gently, his lips over hers. "I'm sorry I ran off on you…" she whispered against his kiss.

He chuckled softly into her hair. "Non. It's fine. Listen to Garrick, my love." Garrick observed the whole scene with a raised eyebrow.

"Aren't you also the Queen of Ferelden? Married to Alistair, the king? Why are you with _him_?" he asked her, confusion crossing his handsome face. For as classically heroic as his baritone voice was, his face matched. With thick, blond hair, blue eyes and a square face, with a square jaw that appeared chiseled, as if it had come from some artist's hands, Garrick's features were composed of a man's stereotypical beauty. He was almost too perfect.

Elissa rose to her feet with Ambrose's help. "Let me guess… This is the part where you tell me I'm cheating on my husband and what a bad, bad girl I am, right?" she quipped with a smile as she leaned against her tall lover. Ambrose encircled her shoulders with his arm.

Garrick raised an armored finger and recited, "'…and the Maker sayeth that marriage is a sacred covenant of the Chantry and unfaithfulness to one's spouse is unfaithfulness to our one, true lord, Our Maker.' Adultery is a sin."

She rolled her eyes and walked over to him slowly. She then very deliberately reached up and locked lips with him in a passionate kiss that left him breathless. "The chantry crap? I am _so_ over it. I'm sorry if I disagree. Besides, I have permission and Ambrose is part of our family. That is why I must help his children."

Garrick was still recovering from the kiss when Elissa walked back over and leaned her back against the tree. The rain had abated somewhat but clouds were thicker and thunder grumbled somewhere off in the distance. Ambrose seemed nervous, his eyes darting around as if expecting an attack from somewhere. "The Alistair _I_ knew as a boy would never have agreed to such an arrangement. Granted he wasn't the most devout of us but he had finely-honed sense of justice that I found admirable."

Elissa shrugged. "He fell in love with me and he learned that I have an appetite for sex that drives me into the arms of other men, often by accident. Rather than be critical of me for it, he has embraced it and has even used it to his advantage. You might say he's been _hardened_ a bit. Alistair is _much_ more open-minded than he used to be. So you know him?"

The big Templar nodded and looked off into the distance at the oncoming storm. "We were raised in the abbey together. I was the only noble's son who tolerated his antics. Maker, but do I have some stories. He was a bad influence on me. I spent as much time covering for him as he spent washing dishes. It kept him out of Mass, though…"

Ambrose touched her shoulder. "Darkspawn coming closer…" he murmured. She couldn't sense them yet but the look in his eyes was telling. She loosened her weapons and Ambrose dropped their gear. "Stories later, Ser. Why does the abomination want me?" Elissa asked.

The Templar sighed and stood before her. "Within you are two children. One is a powerful mage and the other has called the Grey Warden Taint to him. He has apparently made it a part of his make-up, part of what he is. In essence, his body has mastered it and _she_ is desperate for him. For when he reaches an age when he can lead, the child will either be the mightiest of Grey Wardens or…" Garrick drew a breath, his eyes tightly shut. "…or a kind of Archdemon that would rule the Darkspawn as a king and the Abomination wishes to breed with him, control him and from here, where the veil is thin, begin her demonic domination of the world. The other child she would give to another demon to inhabit. She has amassed an army of Darkspawn, Malificarum and bloodmages to ensure she succeeds. I have tried to find a way to stop her. This is, after all, my own damn fault."

Elissa could now sense the encroaching Darkspawn. There were many of them. "How so?" she asked, her sword in hand, eyes darting about.

"My first year as a Templar, I was sent out to fetch back an escaped Apostate and I promptly fell in love with her. I know, I know, 'Bad Garrick!' but love is a devious thing and I was smitten. We moved to this village and I expected life to be perfect. I was wrong. She raised the demon and…"

"…she became the abomination?" Elissa finished.

"For a time, yes, until I took her _head_. The monster fled into the nearest mage it could sense after I killed its first host."

Ambrose glowered darkly at Garrick, his eyebrows drawn together. "My _wife_!" he spat.

The big Templar hung his head and nodded slowly. "This time, she surrounded herself with her army and took Ambrose's family as hostages. She promised him that she would preserve their lives if he went to fetch you, Commander. I was allowed freedom to come and go as I pleased because I was not seen as any kind of threat. Annoyance, perhaps, but I was not a threat. So I have done my best to protect Ambroses' son and daughter. They are still both alive but a day ago, she stated that the Bloodmages could have their way with them because she was tired of waiting. Her scouts returned with news that you were near so…

"…here I am. To warn you. Go back to Alistair. Bring your Grey wardens and whatever troops Celene can afford. I am doing my best to keep the children alive."

Ambrose sighed and looked at Elissa. "He's right. As soon as we dispatch these Darkspawn, we need to head back as quickly as we can. Okay?"

"…Yes." She said reluctantly. That's when the first Darkspawn appeared. They rushed Garrick and Ambrose but they carefully avoided Elissa. They were ruthless in their attacks and determined to kill the men with sword and magic. Yet, for some reason, try as she might, they refused to attack her so she struck at them instead. Blood and bodies flew about as the first wave ended, the breathless humans winning the bout.

"There's more!" warned Ambrose. There were more. Dozens more. They were accompanied by Malificarum and Bloodmages, whose hands glowed with prepared combat spells. The three humans were completely surrounded. The mass of enemies hovered close, awaiting a signal they knew would come.

Then, a magical vision of a woman appeared before them. She might have been pretty once but the demon within her had transformed the face so it was thinner, more delicate and certainly more evil-looking. Her breasts were bare save the chains and loops of pearls decorating her magic-sculpted torso. The eyes burned with evil, however, and it is there that one ceased thinking of her as "pretty".

"My my, it does seem that you are at a disadvantage! The choice, of course, is yours but I will grant you an opportunity to kill yourselves if you wish. The alternative, of course, is that the Commander comes with me and your lives are spared. Though, Garrick, spared as you might be, I fear you'll lose some of your precious freedom. You were a bad boy and snuck off to warn them. Tsk-tsk. I am ashamed of you," the demon said as she looked at each warrior, especially Elissa. Her expression was filled with lust, desire and hunger for what she had inside her.

"We will not back down!" Garrick shouted suddenly as Ambrose stood protectively in front of Elissa. Her expression was lost behind the men. "Bring them on!" Ambrose added.

The Abomination sighed and gestured to her General, a tall woman bearing an ornate staff and a wicked smile. The staff was lowered and the three were swarmed. The fight lasted only a very short time before Elissa, covered with mud and blood stopped it. She was about to watch a Hurlock use his twin blades to decapitate Ambrose, something she could not bear to watch so she raised her hand and shouted, "NO! We give up! I surrender! I will go with you if you promise me you will spare their lives!" Ambrose rushed to her side, weeping as Garrick rose from the ground where a spear had partially impaled his arm. He pulled it out and threw it onto the muddy, gore-strewn ground in disgust.

"We cannot defeat them, my love…" she whispered into Ambrose's soaked, black hair as he held her against him. "You must run. Get Alistair and as many others as you can before it's too late," she said for his ear only. He nodded against her and held her more tightly than he thought he could. "I love you with everything I am. Tell Alistair that he is my life, my breath… Tell him I will be here. I love you…" She leaned back and then kissed him longingly, passionately and quite thoroughly. Their tears mingled together with the rain and, as two Bloodmages took her by her arms and hauled her away, Ambrose sobbed loudly and fell to his knees in the slippery mix of mud and gore.

Two more Bloodmages came for Garrick and took him as well. He struggled bravely against them but he was shoved forward by an armored Hurlock. "You must not fail, Ambrose!" he shouted above the sound of the storm and the marching feet of the many bodies around them. The tall Orlesian nodded, picked up his trampled pack and started walking back the way he came. Why they did not pursue him, he couldn't say but the demon, however evil she was, had kept her part of the bargain. Tears and rain blinding him, he left to get the only man in the world capable of undoing the events that Ambrose felt responsible for setting into motion.

**

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Alistair was sitting in Celene's study with a book in his lap when a guard came sliding in. He'd been running as fast as he could down the long corridors of the Imperial Palace and didn't stop until he rounded the corner into the office. He was panting, about to speak when Celene interrupted him. She glared at him with rage. "How dare you barge into my private office!" she shouted.

Gasping, the guard said, "My Lady, we have a man here stating our land is in grave danger! That he must see the Fereleden King and you! He looks to have been in a great battle and he is wounded. He said his name is Ambr-"

"Send him to me and fetch some salves. I need the Chevalier Commander as well. Alistair, if what Ambrose tells us is the proof I need, you will get your troops." She told the guard to meet them in her private meeting room. She gestured for Alistair to follow her and they entered a large, half-circular room. Once it might have been referred to as a war-room where a map of Thedas graced the far wall and seats were arranged in a semi-circle in front of it. Celene had struck "war" from its title as they were currently enjoying a period of peace. However, for creating a strategic defense or deciding battle plans (or her next vacation) the room was perfect.

Next to the map of Thedas was a massive map of Orlais and it was this she stared at as Ambrose came walking in. He looked as terrible as the night she first laid eyes on him. He fell to his knees at Alistair's feet, his long black hair in wet tendrils that clung to his bewhiskered cheeks. The man was coated in mud and two-day old blood. The rain, it seemed, had chased him here. He was sobbing so hard, his words were unintelligible. Alistair dropped to his knees and carefully helped Ambrose climb to his feet. The blue eyes were intense, searching as he looked at the King's worried expression. He then leaned in and kissed him as he said, "I lost her, Alistair. She's been taken by them and I could do nothing to stop it."

Alistair's skin blanched as he pushed Ambrose away from him by the shoulders. "You lost her? _You lost my wife?" _he shouted, incredulously. The tall Orlesian nodded slowly. "How _dare_ you!" His fist contacted Ambrose's nose before either of them knew what was happening. The man flew backwards with the force of the blow and slid on his back until his momentum was halted by a rug. His nose erupted with a fresh flow of bright red liquid as he lay on his back. Alistair had his sword drawn and was advancing when the Chevalier Commander had the stupidity to open his mouth.

"What?" Alistair growled as he turned to look at the Commander. Celene, watching all of this with wide eyes, reached out and tried to stop Alistair before he dragged the Chevalier by his cloak and threw him onto the ground. "Say it again, bastard!"

"She is replicable! Just a woman! Why must we rush to save a single woman? You can always marry again!" The fool just couldn't shut his mouth. What made things worse was that he seemed totally convinced of his idiotic dialogue, which would get him killed. Alistair held the sword-point up above his face and started to lower it. But then, something, someone stopped him.

Celene stood beside Alistair and ran her delicate fingers along his arm, sending chills throughout his body as the touch was conveyed through the thin fabric of his shirt. Her hand stopped at the pommel of his sword, where he had a death-grip on the hilt. She then curled those delicate fingers around his hands, halting the downward thrust before it could be completed. "_Non non non_, Alistair,"she murmured slowly, carefully. "You will spill no more blood upon this floor. Come, put down the sword and think with a thought and not your pride."

Alistair swallowed, hard. "He said she can be replaced, my wife can be replaced! My wife _cannot_ be replaced, Empress!" he wailed. He was weeping hard now and Ambrose, finally back on his feet and his face a bloody mess, came around to Alistair's other side. His hands were supportive and the love was evident. He said nothing. Whatever Alistair thought was necessary, he would abide by. All that mattered now was that he was there. Alistair, for his part, seemed to relax a bit with Ambrose lovingly supporting him.

"_Von_, the man is a fool with a big mouth and I promise I will humiliate him in a way that will show my great displeasure. However, enough blood has been shed on my floor this day. Must there be more? Must a life be taken because a man cannot be silent?"

Below, lying prone on the ground, the Chevalier foolishly tried explaining his opinion, something Alistair was having none of. The blade pressed into the man's cheek, cutting it open and drawing blood. It oozed down his face, pooling in the gap of his armor near the neck. "Be silent!" Celene shouted. "If you value your life, your mouth is sealed!" she said in Orlesian. Alistair understood it well enough because of his recent study of the language.

He faltered ever so slowly, his hands weakening their grip on the sword. Celene snatched it and threw it aside to the marble floor where it slid with a metallic screech before clanging against the wall. Ambrose pulled Alistair away as the young king numbly stared at the wounded man on the floor. The Chevalier now had a nasty wound on his face, which would need stitches at the least. Alistair then began to cry into Ambrose's shoulder. The two men held one another tightly as Celene helped the big-mouthed Chevalier to his knees.

"Due to your idiotic and archaic theories about women, you are hereby dropped to the rank of Private, to be stripped of your station, your armor, your privileges and as much as seventy per-cent of your pay. See the healer and then join the men in the barracks. Your new commander will be joining you shortly once we hammer out a suitable plan of attack." The former commander stared at up her in silence at first as he listened. Then he started protesting and finally begged to know who the new commander could be because he thought he should have a say.

She smiled and came around to Ambrose's muddy, bloody back and touched his shoulders daintily with her delicate hands. "Him, of course! He was never stripped of his title by my uncle, after all and so he remains a Chevalier. After all these years, he would have been commander in the least."

Ambrose's protests were ignored as Celene laughed and pinched her nose delicately. "Alistair, take the commander away for a bath, some salves and some much-needed affection. I will be at your rooms shortly after I dispatch this fool to the rest of his command."

To be continued!


	30. Chapter 30

**Tainted Dreams**

**Part 30**

_Welcome to the last four chapters of Tainted Dreams. I warned you it was going to get rough and it is. For me, anyway. There __**is **__a scene of coerced sex. I won't call it rape, necessarily, because those involved are being threatened to do it lest bad things happen to them. It isn't pretty and it may be disturbing. There is also some graphic violence. But any questions you have will be answered, at least! The demon's plan in full… At last. Thanks again to those who have helped me plot this segment. I couldn't have done it without you._

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**Captured Part 2**

The house may have once been splendid. With five bedrooms, at least two bathing-rooms and pipes to carry hot and cold water to them and the kitchen, it was as modern and luxurious as small family homes could be outside the cities. Ambrose must have paid a fortune for his family's temporary luxury. Temporary, you might say because his assignment to Val Royeaux was temporary. Temporary you might say because he never intended to stay. Now it was a prison, the furniture destroyed and the walls splattered with blood. People were constantly screaming, the sounds punctuating the night as Elissa tested her bonds and tried not to fall asleep. In an ironic twist, she was in Ambrose's bed, her body left naked and her wrists and ankles chained to the bed. At least they'd kept a fire burning.

On the other side of the wall, in the room behind her, Garrick constantly yelled at her to stay alert. For one entire, excruciating day, this was how it was. No-one came to check on her or give her water or food. And the abomination had not yet appeared to gloat over her victory.

That didn't last long.

She arrived, dragging Garrick in chains behind her. He was naked and devastatingly beautiful. Elissa closed her eyes against the blood pouring from a cut in his brow, marring the sculpted beauty of his face. He was fighting the three male mages that hauled his unwilling form across the floor. "The poor mouse has finally been caught by the cat as the cat has grown weary of his spying and interference. It was fun at first, I confess but alas, his warning you was the last straw," the demon observed with twisted lips.

The young queen turned her head and glared accusingly at the abomination as she approached from the left. The creature's eyes raked her body with unconcealed hunger. "Yet you allowed Ambrose his freedom?" she snapped.

The demon laughed. "And what would your Ambrose do to me that Garrick has not yet tried? The Empress is too caught up in her own concerns to help you fools. So he'll gain no aid from her and the Grey Wardens are blissfully disbelieving of any claims of Darkspawn in the region. Amazingly, they arrive and see this quaint little village bustling happily with nary a creature in sight. Oh they may sense them but soon, they forget what they're sensing and move on. So, because you were a good girl and gave me exactly what I wanted, I set him free. He cannot harm me. No-one can!" The abomination laughed.

The cruel face had once been pretty, in an old-fashioned sense. It was still lovely but the eyes burned with hatred and greed. The bright lavender eyes and black hair were unusual in these parts but Ambrose's wife had possessed them proudly. The demon had then taken and enhanced the features she liked and changed those she did not. The woman was short and plump once but the demon had elongated and narrowed the torso, removed the fat and sculpted the body. She displayed it proudly in sheer silks that draped and flowed around her.

An alabaster hand reached out and stroked Elissa's face then slid down her body slowly. "Do you know what I can do to you?" she murmured softly as she drew a finger in a lazy circle around Elissa's left nipple.

"I can imagine but I know you won't kill me. Yet," the red-headed woman observed, wincing as her body responded to the demon's touch. She preferred men but beautiful women were a guilty pleasure to her, something the demon must have guessed.

Laughter punctuated by a stroke of her tongue against Elissa's pale skin, where her finger had been moments before. "Oh yes, that is true. So very true. I ask you…did you enjoy your dreams? I must say I was rather proud of my creations. I took your fears, your doubts and mixed them with your own normal dreams and then I tainted them just enough to become all-consuming nightmares. Masterpieces, I declare them! Works of art. Sadly, they failed to draw you into the Fade where you would wind up as food for my eager brethren."

Elissa understood at last. The nightmares had always seemed far too perfect for her to believe they were natural. The last one had convinced her that something wanted her lost in the Fade. She spat in the abomination's face and laughed as the creature drew an elegant hand across its too-perfect face to wipe away the spittle. "I have endured the Fade already! What makes you think I can't handle anything, everything you try to throw at me there? I know the fade as well or better than any mage that has ever walked its paths so believe me, I have no fear of it or the demons that haunt it."

Long fingers tipped with sharpened spikes for nails curled around Elissa's throat. "Such hubris! Such bravery! Fool. Once you are within the Fade, your body will belong to me. Whether or not you defeat my brethren is of no concern. Once you are out of your mortal vessel, my mages will expedite your pregnancy and the babies will be born. Afterwards, what happens to you is no longer my concern. Simply, with the vessel no longer serving its purpose, it is simply thrown away." Garrick cried out in protest and the demon stabbed a finger at him and yelled, "Silence him! Rip out his tongue. I have had enough of his interference."

Elissa cried out to him and cringed as she heard Garrick scream in torment. "You bitch! How could you? He was doing nothing to you. That poor man…Garrick!"

The demon laughed as she ran her hands down Elissa's body and over her swollen belly. She laid her cheek against the smooth skin and lovingly caressed it. "I don't care about you mortals. I care about what I have here. You see your boy, the sweet tainted boy is going to be a king. Not your king, not just any king but a king of Darkspawn. They will be my army, my foot soldiers as we demons take this world for ourselves. Oh what joy it will be, the blood of so many flowing through my hands. I plan to breed with the child and have his young. What will they be like, I wonder? Oh my but I delight in this planning. I must confess I could not have done it without you and Garrick, Elissa."

The young woman jerked on her chains. "You speak nonsense! How is this plan our doing?"

What might have been Aliyena's fingernails dug into Elissa's flesh and caused the young woman to yelp. "You decided to bear young and that one decided to go rogue. Those are two events that were necessary to my plan and the only way I had a chance of succeeding. Your kind might say that the universe was in harmony and that the fates had guided me to this or some such nonsense. Either way, your world, as you know it, is doomed."

Struggling, Elissa closed her eyes against the tears that flooded out. The abomination was stroking her body, touching her intimately and laughing. "And when you've used up this world, you will have nothing. Then what will you do?"

The creature's face was instantly above Elissa's, her hot breath moist against her skin. The young woman shrank into Ambrose's fine sheets and tried to turn her face. "Do you think, you conceited little bitch, that this world is the only one the Fade can touch? There are many, many worlds and one by one, I and your darling son and our army of mages and Darkspawn will visit them. They will fall at our feet and we will crush their puny existences."

The expression of pure horror that must have crossed Elissa's face made the demon laugh as she pulled away from her. She walked over to where Garrick knelt weakly. There wasn't any blood but the man was clearly in pain. Her hands clasped behind her back, she turned her head slightly as she observed him from different angles. "I should reward you both for enabling me my freedom and birthing my future mate. Without you, I would still be in control of but a small portion of the Fade. Now I will be able to control entire worlds.

"Rise, Garrick and satiate your lust on the girl. I remember how you were when I inhabited your beloved and I dare say you almost made me enjoy mortality." When he refused to move, she reached down and jerked his chain. Using magic, his captors dragged his violently protesting body to the bed. His expression was a terrible blend of grief and dismay. Garrick shook his blond-maned head repeatedly as he fought them. Somehow, sadly, they were able to get him onto the bed and his hands and legs freed so that he could perform for them.

"Do not disappoint me, Garrick. Doing so will result in deaths…" He turned his head and his eyes widened as the demon used her power to make a man's head explode. Pieces of brain and bone flew about the room, causing the remaining mages to cringe. One cried out for Garrick to remember what some had done for him and just do what he was told. He looked down at Elissa, tears streaming from his eyes, splattering across her thigh. Behind him, another head exploded, showering the remaining mages with gore and bone. One yelped as he was hit in the face with an eye, which had suddenly become a projectile.

She looked at him, weeping as she said, "Garrick, just do it. I know this is hard and it goes against your upbringing and your teaching but even though these idiots have thrown their lot in with the demon, their lives are worth a few minutes of forced sex."

He looked at her in misery, his lips mouthing the words, "this is rape!"

She smiled sweetly, kindly as she said, "I told you that most of my lovers were accidental. It's okay. This isn't ideal but you cannot rape the willing, you know." He cocked his head at her dramatically and gave her a dark look. She almost laughed at his expression. He shook his head and crossed his arms against his broad chest. He was determined, that's for sure.

The demon came around to him and touched his sculpted body with her fingers. "Do you like my creation, my dear? He is quite stunning. The original Garrick was pleasing to the eye but this one is what women dream of when they dream about being rescued by handsome heroes. I went to a great deal in his reshaping. It's one of the reasons I let him run loose about my home: so that I can look at him. His voice was my final gift. Such a pity it is no longer his to use. Now, my darling man, take the Warden Commander or another dies. How about the girl by the door, hmm? Would you like to see what the inside of her skull looks like?"

A sound arose from his chest as he attempted to strike the demon. She had him in a binding spell before he even managed to spin his torso around. "Ooh, clever, clever boy! The girl means something to you, does she? How very interesting. And here I was, thinking she'd gotten the son wrapped around her pretty little finger. Take this woman or the child-mage dies, fool!" she shouted at him, her hand glowing ominously.

Garrick was weeping now, his grief at being forced to do what he would not do under normal circumstances to even a willing player clearly hurting him. He pulled himself onto Elissa's prone form and rested his face against her shoulder. "I know," she whispered softly to him. "Make it quick, do what is necessary and I will not hold it against you. This is not your fault. Do you hear me? Now, look at me… Touch me. There you go…"

Garrick bravely explored her body with first his hands and then, as he grew more aroused, he used his mouth. Periodically, he would look up at Elissa and draw courage from her encouraging smile. It was like making love to a virginal Alistair again; the man was shy and reluctant, afraid of what boundaries there lie. She almost laughed as she watched him. There were no boundaries, of course, with them being forced into this unfortunate situation. But, as shy as he was, there was something about his touch that, if she closed her eyes, she could imagine a different set of circumstances and even enjoy it. Right now, he was touching and kissing her body for his own sake, his own arousal lest he be unable to perform.

His slow, deliberate method was clearly annoying the demon. Nearby, another bloodmage slid to the floor, this time his heart being the thing she destroyed. His chest opened, blood soaking anyone nearby and even splattering on the couple trying to have sex on the bed. "STOP it! You want him to perform, he needs to get hard and he can't do that if you keep murdering people!" Elissa shouted as Garrick clung to her, his tears spilling forth once more. The torment of this man was unbelievable. Aliyena was clearly using this, all of it, to break him. It was clear in the expression on her face.

She whispered again to him, encouraging him and slowly he rebuilt his courage. Garrick leaned over her and kissed her deeply. With a start, Elissa discovered he still had a tongue and what a clever tongue it was as he used it to dance in her mouth. He winked at her slowly. "Can you speak?" she whispered against him. He shook his head and pointed to where he thought his larynx was. Ah. They had removed his ability to make any sound, not just his ability to speak. She wondered if it could be reversed.

Sweating against her, he reluctantly pressed his cock inside her and slowly moved it within her. She gasped as he worked it. He was gentle, irritatingly gentle. It was Alistair all over again, back before he learned how to take her the way she liked it. Oh, there were times when she liked it slow and gentle but most times, she enjoyed it fast and often brutal. Elissa laughed at herself. What a beast she'd become! Garrick was nicely endowed so that made up for the painfully slow way he made love to her. Soon, he was pounding into her in a fashion much more in keeping with her own perverted tastes. She moaned as he came inside her. Garrick collapsed against her and within moments he was hauled off the bed by his captors, many of whom were covered in blood. The room looked like a torture chamber now.

"Now that that's done, you both will share this room. It was nice in its day. Such a pity it has been reduced to this bloody place." She turned to the other mages and told them to clean up the mess. They did as she asked, hauling away the bodies to be used or burned as desired. She turned back to her captives and smiled as the last chain was hooked to a loop in the wall. "Garrick is no longer able to keep you awake, my darling. When you finally fall asleep, the fade will take you and your soul will be lost. Then your body will be mine."

Laughing, she walked out and closed the door. So confident was she that they could not escape, the demon didn't even lock the door in her wake. "Well, that was interesting. You did well, Garrick," Elissa remarked in casual tones. It was forced of course, the attempt at levity missing its mark. He tried to position his head so that she could see him mouth the words, "I sucked." She couldn't see him mouth those words but she knew men well enough that it was clear what he was feeling. "You did the best you could considering the circumstances. I was not entirely displeased. If things were different, I would have found you intriguing regardless. There. I hope your ego is suitably stroked."

He wasn't impressed. Garrick sighed and waited for time to pass. As he waited for the rescuers to arrive or the blood mages to grow bored, he passed the time listening for Elissa's breathing. When he heard Elissa start to doze, he would pelt her with bone to keep her awake. But eventually, the bone fragments he could reach were used up and she finally did fall into a deep slumber, a slumber where her nightmares became real and her fears took over. Soon, she was moaning and straining against her bonds, her legs violently kicking and her head tossing from side to side.

Then there was nothing.

To be continued.

To be continued.


	31. Chapter 31

**Tainted Dreams**

**Part 31**

_Welcome to the first of the final three chapters of Tainted Dreams. You will notice that this entire chapter is italicized and in the first person. I don't mean to confuse you all but we are passengers inside Elissa's head. I had expected it to only be a short thing and then right into the action but, alas, that is not how things work. Oddly, no sex but there are some very disturbing images._

**Darkness**

_Blood, black and glossy was splattered across his face. The gold-brown eyes, like warm honey, were intensely focused on me as he asked, "Elissa, did you see? We're done! We did it! Now I'm going to finish it off."_

_I grabbed his wrist as he rose from the ground to get his sword. Everywhere, fires burned and people screamed but this high up, here on the platform of the ballistae tower, the heat and death were distant. I was sadly aware, however, of the many lives taken during the battle against the archdemon. It was painful for me to look around at all those who had sacrificed themselves for this cause. _My_ cause. Even though we had won, something unfinished hung in the air, preventing me from enjoying our success. _

_The archdemon, broken and unable to move as she was, was not yet dead. _

"_Why can't I do it?" I asked as hauled myself to my feet. I was dizzy for a moment but soon, I stood wearily, my hands like a vice on his wrist._

_He jerked his arm away and hefted his sword in one hand and the other touched my chin. He kissed me with warm lips and smiled sadly. "If Morrigan's trick fails, I would rather myself die than you. You cannot be sacrificed, my love. Not for this."_

_I watched him turn away in stoic silence and then he ran to the prone dragon. I raised my own sword and rushed him, sending him sprawling just feet away from delivering the final, fatal blow. I then leapt to the dragon's neck and perched there upon the rough, jagged spines and boney plates in a precision balancing act that left me unprotected. Though weak, she was still able to fight me. I plunged the sharp lyrium-enhanced blade named Starfang deep into the archdemon's skull, the glowing metal driven into its brain. I cried out as the beast gave a sudden staggering shudder and I was thrown to the ground as it began its death throes._

_I hit the ground hard, a bone snapping beneath me. I think it was my hip. As the dragon died, Alistair ran to my side, weeping. He was saying things, sweet things, begging me to stay with him. But his words were lost on me as my vision faded and then…there was only blackness._

_For a moment I lingered in this, "not quite here" state before once again, I opened my eyes. I expected to still be in Alistair's arms and I was but I was looking down at myself and him. Down. I looked around and realized that the lone survivors were staring at me with horror. I turned back to Alistair and our eyes met. I tried to cry out that it was I, his love! But all that came out of my jaws was a terrible roar that splattered Alistair and my body with long threads of gooey, acidic saliva. He grabbed his sword and lunged, my human remains forgotten at my clawed feet. _

_His sword bit through my tough hide several times and it hurt like a mosquito's bite but nothing more. I felt myself losing control as my jaws opened, hovered over his body and snapped shut. Within my mind, I howled, I tried to pull back and though I was the dragon in every way, I could not control her. I could feel, taste, scent and touch but otherwise, I was a passenger. I tasted his blood, his viscera; I felt his heart beating on my tongue. I tried to spit him out of my mouth but instead, I chewed. I crunched his marrow-filled bones. I devoured his heart and brain. Then I swallowed. When I looked down again, all that remained was his body from the waist down and blood. His blood. It was on me, in me, on my tongue and it pooled beneath my feet in a hot, sticky black slick._

_I screamed and once again, all was dark._

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_I awoke screaming. I sat up and the first thing I noticed was that my belly was flat and I was lying in grass that had no touch or sensation. The ground was vaguely "there" but it gave the impression of walking on foam or soap. In the distance, under a pink and purple sky, there were mountains and rocks that seemed to constantly change their shape and composition. _

_It suddenly hit me; I was in the Fade._

_I rose to my feet and looked around. I had done this a few times so nothing was at all that new to me. Every "Fade walk" had a way out of the Nightmare. It was just a matter of finding the "key". For a non-mage, I was pretty damn good at dealing with the Fade and its demonic denizens. Walking around and looking for clues would be the first order of business. Somewhere along the path, a spirit would be drawn to me. That spirit would help with a word of advice, some knowledge to guide my first steps. At least I hoped. Demons were the more common creature one encountered._

_After a time of wandering, I felt myself growing frustrated. Usually, there was a creature, a demon something that would challenge me but so far, I hadn't come across anything. Surely it was not abandoned! I was so absorbed in my own thoughts that I did not hear the crying at first but a few moments later, I did listen and that time, I did hear it._

_Inspired, I listened more closely and I walked in the direction of the woman's tears. _

"_Hello? Hello!" I called into the shimmering veil of the Fade. Ever shifting, ever changing, it was hard to navigate it but I had done it many times and I was not fooled by the varying environment I traveled through. But most others would become disoriented and frightened. Yes, I was unnerved by it but I found it lovely, actually._

_Against a pillar, I found her. She was small, plump with round hips, a bulbous bottom and small breasts. She was not the type of woman I would associate Ambrose with but here she was, his wife. I don't know how I knew that but it felt right to me that that's who she was. Her dark hair shadowed her round face and tears dripped to the ground. "Aliyena? Hello."_

_She peered up at me through the curtain of her tangled hair. "You…you've been with him…" she whispered. Her tone was accusatory, her statement carrying so much meaning. But she didn't seem mad, just imploring. "Is he…well?"_

_I nodded as I crouched down to her side. It was then that I realized that, as in life, I was naked. She at least wore a simple shift over her ample curves. "Yes. I think so. He's gone for help. She…the demon let him go for help. I don't understand why…"_

_She snorted and turned away from me. "She wants the challenge. The first step to her plan, to see if her minions can beat whatever he brings to face her. She has you now. In her mind, that alone is victory enough. You know why she needs you?" the woman asked in soft, thickly accented Fereldan. _

_I started to nod but because she wasn't looking at me, I murmured, "I think so. It's pretty crazy."_

_She snapped her head around. "You're not in her thoughts! You don't know the half of it! She knows a way to speed up your son's age, you know. A way to make him grow fast so that she can have her king and her army and our world. She thinks herself unstoppable! She thinks she's won." The woman bent over her hands once again, sobbing. I reached out my hands to comfort her and she flinched away. "Don't! You're his. I won't be touched by him ever again."_

_I steadied myself on my heels and watched her closely. "I don't belong to him. He's a lover, yes, but I belong to myself." I sounded defiant. Maybe I was. "Has he hurt you?" I asked in a hushed voice. Was he even capable of hurting a woman?_

_She shook her head. "Non…I did the hurting. I was wrong. He loved me. He tried. And I failed him. I lied about our son. He is not his. I was pregnant with my father's child and mother and I knew it. The night he saved me, I gave my body to him willingly in thanks. Then the Wardens took him in and some months later I had given birth to a black-haired, blue-eyed child. I claimed it his. And he believed me. Mother told him he had to marry me because I was ruined. In truth, she knew he was wealthy and Grey Wardens die young. It was a perfect situation since we had no money ourselves._

"_Her hope was that he would leave all to me and by me, she meant her and the rest of our family. Sometime after we married, we made love at the Lover's Ball, unaware of who we were with. There, we conceived our daughter. But he didn't know I had a real lover there… I had been with him since before we were married. But mother wouldn't let me be with him. He was a mage. He didn't have money. He had no real station in life. Ambrose was wealthy, handsome, terminally ill…perfect for an aspiring Lady. He always fretted that I wouldn't let him touch me. He never knew the truth. I feel terribly for the hurt I caused him. But mother is evil. Gold meant more than love. I had to obey her or lose my son."_

_I watched her take a deep breath and her hands wiped away her tears. "The worst of it was that he did learn to love me a great deal. And I tried! I really did but every time we touched, I felt as if I was being untrue to my real love, though he understood. Ambrose was so sweet, using flowers and romance and the sweetest kisses… He was more patient than any man should ever be. Then one day he stopped coming home. So I sent his clothes to Lydes during a fit of anger. Shortly after that, he threatened me with divorce and mother threatened to take away my daughter since my son was old enough by then to be on his own._

"_Then Veranon showed up, practically dancing with joy to present the request for annulment. I hit him. I actually hit Veranon. That wasn't like me but I was terrified of mother. She would do much worse to me when she found out. I was emotionally weak as I kicked him out of my home. He was laughing at me. I prepared myself to listen to mother's threats but before I saw her, I felt my soul get slammed out of my body and into this place, this Fade place."_

_I looked at her as she peered around, her eyes drinking it in and fear clutching her breast. "So you know this is the Fade. Did you know you are a mage?" I asked._

_She nodded slowly. "My lover said I had a hint of the gift but not enough to train. Ironically, our daughter has more than a hint. She is strong, like the one in your womb."_

"_I see. I was told she had magic," I murmured softly. "You need to return to your body so that we can stop her. I can help you go home!"_

_Aliyena shook her head sadly as she slowly rose to her feet. "Non. I cannot. The body that was once my own she has warped beyond all comprehension. Then, even were I able to return, I have nothing left and my mother will ensure that I never have a life free to live however I wish. No, I am finished. But you can stop her. I hold the key, the answer, the weapon that will be her undoing."_

_I was intrigued now as she smiled at me, the first one I'd seen on her yet. When she smiled, she suddenly became radiant and I understood then why Ambrose tried so hard to make things work with her. "I have been her pet, her slave and she has fed off of me for months now. I will give to you, voluntarily, everything that I am and ever was in the form of a weapon she cannot counter. Because it is my essence, given without compulsion, she will not know how to counter it. An added benefit is that I have been studying magic while I was locked up in here, learning her spells. The weapon I give you will make you a mage for as long as my essence remains. It is the only way. The best way. Also, without her to feed on me, her powers weaken. Trust me."_

_I was stunned, shocked. She wanted to give up not only her life but her spirit, her soul, her very essence! I wasn't sure I could do this but when I looked back at her, I saw she was glowing softly; her hand wrapped around a staff as much in flux as the rest of the Fade. She pushed it into my shaking hands but didn't let go right away. "I don't know how long you'll have but the Fade seems to keep me strong so you should be able to use it to free yourself from this place without losing its potency outside…"_

_My eyes widened as I looked hard at her. "Wait, you mean this thing will work outside the Fade? But Fade weapons don't do that!"_

_Her smile was sweet as she leaned in to kiss my mouth. "That kiss is for Ambrose. Tell him that I am sorry and that I am glad he has a woman as amazing as you must be. You are in love with him and if you are in love with him then he must be in love with you. That makes me…happy. This weapon, because it is a human life, will last as long as necessary to accomplish its goals. Now, I bid you farewell. Good luck." When she finally let go of the staff, the rest of her was sucked into it and all that was left was a glowing, pulsating stave that seemed to constantly modify its length, it bulk and its ornamentation._

_With little time left to waste, I quickly searched for a portal, a door, anything that would lead me out of the Fade. Then, I saw them: two demons stood by a Fade Portal, smiling at me. The one was a Sloth demon and his companion was a demon of Lust. They converged on me, lashing out with their powers. The Sloth demon tried to lure me into forgetfulness but I had dealt with his kind. I laughed at him and used the staff to block his magic. That's when I realized I was using magic! A fireball exploded from my fingers and ice erupted in a show of glittering crystals. Then, of course, there was good old fashioned brute strength to take them out when magic took too long._

_I darted through the portal only to find myself in another part of the Fade. The demons came at me and as more came, more fell and I learned quickly how to make my weapon do what I wanted. When I reached the final portal, I faced six demons in deep concentration around an orb of light. Not just one orb but two orbs, each one growing slightly larger under their careful guidance. I realized that these must be the demons within the mages seeking to speed up my pregnancy. I raised my staff and blasted the lot of them with a hail of ice and lightning. It struck them, blowing them from their feet and flinging them against the "stone" of the portal. Two died instantly, a third was unscathed and three others were dazed, injured but alive. Though weak, they were still fully capable of causing me great damage. Their weakness only helped equalize us. _

_I used my strength combined with the magic of the staff along with an ice-shard I picked up, one created by one of the spells I'd hurled. I used it as I would a dagger, stabbing at them with it until they died. Eventually, the demons lay dead at my feet and the glowing orbs of my children no longer growing. It was a visual representation, a fade-dream to allow me to see what they were doing as they did It, I realized. I hoped it was so that I could stop those doing it. I ran my hand through the twin orbs of light, dispersing the vision and turned back to the portal. Purple and black mist, swirled with sparks of light like static poured out of the frame ominously. I stepped forward but as I did, a hand reached out to me, stopping me._

_I turned and looked up at the Spirit of Hope. I had almost forgotten about her. She smiled through her glowing eyes and light-beams for hair. "You stopped them. Well done. I had hoped this vision would draw you to stop the mages and their resident demons from finishing their task. Forgive me for not aiding you sooner but I was protecting them, especially the girl."_

_I smiled and looked down where the representation of my babies had been. "I don't blame you, Hope. I am thankful that you were there for us at all. So, the girl, eh?"_

_Hope smiled and nodded. "She will need the help of a Fade Spirit like myself. In return, I will get grow up in the body of a beloved child. Being born, learning, living…growing…it's all a part of the grand experience that is life. To experience birth from your side, I will be with you for the boy's arrival and when the girl is born, I too will be born but in her. Is this…all right?"_

_Looking away, I nodded. "It was our agreement and if you can keep her safe, I will agree. I won't be allowing her to fall prey to the Chantry's rules governing mages, after all. Is this the way out?"_

_She nodded, "Yes. And now you have an army to face. The weapon you carry will turn the tide, helping you win this war. What you face is as important as the Blight was, if not more so because of the ambition of this particular Pride Demon. As the Fade touches other lands, other worlds, ending her reign is impertitive. You must stop her once and for all." With those final words spoken, I felt her take a step into me and once again, I was alone._

_Turning back to the portal, I drew in a deep breath and placed one foot before the first and then, for a final time, there was darkness._

_**To be concluded…**_


	32. Chapter 32

**Tainted Dreams**

**Part 32**

_Well, here we are. This is the final chapter before the epilogue. This is by far the hardest, most violent chapter I have had to write and it was a great deal of agony to decide which direction to take it. Oddly enough, it was plotted months ago but because things changed, some things I expected to happen did not happen the way I expected them to. And I'm glad for it. __ The rest of the knots get untied in the upcoming epilogue as well as a teaser for the the next story which, for you fans, continues where this leaves off. _So grab a hanky and prepare for…

_

* * *

_

**Conclusion, Part one**

**Requiem **

Elissa's eyes snapped open and she gripped the staff with her hand. It flared to life, causing one startled, dazed blood mage to stagger backwards. The cuffs binding her wrists to the head board of the bed disintegrated into dust and she sat up, startling another mage. Her belly was huge now, much larger than it had been before she closed her eyes and the twins were actively reminding her that she would be a poor match in a fight.

Her eyes scanned the room and she noted Garrick, chained still against the wall. His chains also soon became dust and he staggered to his feet, his hand steadying himself as he stood. A blood mage prepared a spell and, Elissa's senses heightened after her recent visit to the fade, felt the stirring of mana. She pointed the blazing staff at the mage and watched him melt to the floor into what looked like a puddle of blood and decaying, black viscera. It was horrific but effective as the other mages remaining shrank from her in terror. Garrick grabbed her arm and pointed to the mages that remained. They looked confused, frightened even. One flinched when she lowered the staff at him. She marveled that he was frightened of one small, nude woman who seemed about to bursting with pregnancy. She figured it must be the staff though the thought of him being afraid of her was amusing.

"Speak! Where is your mistress?" she demanded. The mage drew away from her. "Hold your tongue and you will find that my compassion will swiftly run dry. Now. One more time… Where is your mistress?" She shoved the staff into his face and he stared at the head of it as if transfixed by some vision. His eyes widened and he pointed weakly at a slight upward angle.

"Th-the balcony! She's watching the battle!" he stammered hoarsely.

"Battle? What do you mean 'battle'? You mean my husband and our friend? They brought an army?" she asked, hope and relief washing over her, softening her features. The mage nodded quickly. She looked over at Garrick, who was searching the room for paper, a quill already in hand. She pointed the staff at him and murmured, "Voice". A tiny bolt of light streaked out, causing him to glow briefly.

He turned to her and in her mind, she heard him say, "Now what did that crazy woman do to me?"

Elissa smiled and touched his cheek with her fingers. "Watch what you think, Garrick. Though you no longer may use your voice, you _can_ project your thoughts into anyone's mind or minds that you wish to. Stray surface thoughts like the one you just had admiring my breasts, yes it's cold in the room, will be overheard just as easily as if you spoke them. So learn control and project, I suppose. Now…we need clothing. There must be something in here… You! Mage… Stay or I will feed you your cock in bite-sized pieces," she reminded the hapless sorcerer as he attempted an escape on all fours. He obediently remained still, his wide eyes on the staff.

The young woman then turned to the closet built into the wall next to Ambrose's ornate dresser. Garrick dug through the drawers as Elissa scanned the closet with her eyes. He pulled out some small clothes for himself and an oversized shirt for Elissa. She slipped it on as she rifled through the various items of clothing. Ambrose had leather armors and luscious silks sitting side-by-side, mostly in black and red. His color palette was somewhat limited, it seemed, something she found it rather sexy much to her amazement. Sadly, none of it would fit her so she kept digging.

In the back of the closet, she found a long, heavy box. She didn't want to be nosy but she needed a weapon and this looked like a locker of sorts for something important. It wasn't locked. She turned the latch and lifted the heavy lid. Inside was a long item lovingly wrapped in yards of fine, black satin. She withdrew it and carefully revealed the blade within. It was short with jagged, deadly points, three along each edge and it ended in a sinister-looking razor-fine tip. There was a purple/black "glow" that enveloped it from hilt to blade. So… It was enchanted as well! She smiled and filched a belt from the many hanging on the wall behind the door. Ambrose was so skinny that she needed to bore a new hole through the expensive leather so that she could wear it tucked under her belly. She slid the blade into its scabbard and hooked it to her "borrowed" belt. With that done, she tossed a set of leather armor to Garrick who nodded his thanks and set about donning his borrowed gear. There was another sword, a much simpler blade leaning against the wall of the closet. This too she handed to him.

There was one more thing. A final search of the locker revealed a small, ornately carved box made of some reddish wood. She withdrew it and started to open it when Garrick grabbed her arm. She dropped the box back inside the locker and allowed him to pull her to the bed. He handed her some silk pants he'd found and urged her to dress. *Forgive me, my lady. You must defeat the demon quickly! It is imperative that we end this all before she figures out a way to defeat your men-folk.*

She looked into his eyes and then looked away. "His children… I have to help them. I have to try at least!"

*I will take care of the children,* Garrick said in her mind. *Go. Kill that bitch for me. For us all.* Elissa hesitated a moment later before darting up the hall and towards the dark stair leading up into the area belonging to the children and the guest apartment. It was here that the demon dwelled. She didn't exactly sleep so she played mental games and strategized using pawns. Strangely, she had modified the room's appearance but little. The curtains were drawn and she wasn't neat in the way she kept the pleasant room with its four-poster bed and twin chairs.

Elissa looked at the bed. It was the bed that Elissa discovered one of the demon's other pleasures. She cringed as she saw it was black with blood, the mattress saturated and the comforter and sheets torn. No, they were shredded. Elissa cringed at the thought of what Ambrose's wife might think of the things the demon had done to her body. The thought of what that body had done to the bodies others filled her with horror. She had to look away from the grizzly scene.

Shrugging the thought off, she slowly crept to the open doors leading out to the balcony. It was late, the stars bright and the moon hanging like a bloody splotch on the velvet dark sky. Beyond the balcony, men fought and if she listened, she could hear Ambrose and Alistair among the voices. It gave her much-needed faith. The abomination was there, watching and barking orders in her sheer robe. Elissa readied her weapons and then she leapt. Her sword bit deep into the demon's backs, spraying her with a heavy splatter of dark blood. The creature whirled and grabbed Elissa's face with her hand, shoving her away to the far wall of the balcony.

"That ridiculous sword can do nothing to me! See? I heal already," the creature cackled. Elissa fixed the demon with a cold, hard stare and rose to her feet, her back pressed against the wall for support. She then held out the staff horizontal to the ground. It glowed, illuminating the walls and floor as if empowered by the light of the stars themselves. The abomination flinched and drew away, a hand protecting its face from the bright light.

"The sword may be useless but I have something here that is not. Look inside yourself, Demon. Tell me… Is something missing?" Elissa pressed forward and the demon tried to shove her away. She succeeded in knocking her back a bit but the foolish human just kept coming. The staff was lowered, the butt pointing at the demon. She was about to run her through!

As if by request, an errant fireball lit up the balcony, blasting through the rail. Instinctively, Elissa held up the staff and watched as a shield of magic enveloped her like a solid bubble of magic. The fireball spell dissipated around her harmlessly, though she could still feel the heat emanating from the stones. Her quarry was missing, however. She crept closer to the crescent –shaped hole that was the result of the fireball. Elissa wondered as she peered over the edge, where her quarry was. Her answer came in the forceful shove from the demon's hands.

Elissa cried out as she was thrown over the edge and clawed at the demon's diaphanous clothing. It not only slowed her descent over the side but rather it had the added benefit of taking the demon with her. She dropped the sword on the ground and managed to soften her impact with magic from the staff just enough to prevent bones from breaking. It was rattling though and forced the wind right out of her when she hit. She rolled just in time to prevent the demon from landing on top of her. "Rolled" was not exactly correct, she thought as she flopped over, shoving herself with her bare feet. The added awkwardness of her massive belly prevented her from using most of her athletic evasion techniques.

Carefully, she rose to her feet and turned just in time to see the demon rush her. It held her borrowed sword! Elissa suddenly remembered that she could do magic, almost as an afterthought. She raised her left hand and held out the weightless staff. A bubble of power reached out and shoved the demon backwards, onto her back. Elissa ran over to the prone abomination and raised the staff, hoping to impale it. The demon's legs kicked out at her, striking her thighs hard enough to upset her balance. The young queen staggered and fell backwards to the ground, landing on her butt. Once again, her fierce opponent stood over her, the enchanted blade held high. Elissa laid back, her back pressed to the ground and kicked up her legs, jamming them into the ribs of the Pride Demon. Its fragile body was lifted off its feet and thrown by Elissa's powerful legs.

Exhausted, she staggered to her feet and took a moment to survey the "battle field". It encompassed the entire area around Ambrose's large house, a house that was swiftly falling to pieces. Chevalier, Grey Wardens and Orlesian guardsmen fought side by side against Darkspawn and Malifacarum alike. Many fell to the superior numbers but the rest bravely pushed on. She knew that until she "cut the head off the snake," the enemy would have the advantage. That "snake" moved on the ground, drawing Elissa's attention away from the decimated village. She watched the demon claw its way back to its feet.

"You have no hope, no chance to succeed, child!" the demon said as she walked up to Elissa. "I have you! I have won! My warriors are decimating your lovers' army. Their blood feeds my mage's spells, granting them strength." Elissa frowned, tears cascading down her cheeks, and then she took a step forward and dug her heel into the bloody mud as she rushed the demon, impaling it with the butt of the staff, which had shifted into a sharp spike. The creature blinked at her in shock as it realized what she'd done. Its pride, the curse of its existence, had made it underestimate the young woman. It began to light up with a bright glow, which spread into her, illuminating them both.

Because Elissa was not a mage, she had no mana for the magic to draw from so it stole what it could of her stamina, weakening her to the point where she could barely stand. "No, demon. We won the moment you let Ambrose escape. Your hubris is the death of you," she growled as she leaned her weight into the staff. She may have been using it for support but those who watched saw her ensuring her mark was finished.

All around her, mages dropped to the ground, many crying out as the demons that had served the Pride demon fled back into the fade, leaving their hosts empty and some lifeless. Those who were not possessed were drained of their mana as the staff used all sources of it to destroy the creature writhing on the end of the staff. The Darkspawn, however, were not so easily defeated. In fact, they seemed to grow more aggressive as they doubled their attacks on their human and elfin opponents.

Before, the monstrous Darkspawn had been oblivious of Elissa as the mind controlling them told them not to harm the bearer of their lord. Once that mind was snuffed out, they regained their desire to kill all the humans. Indeed, they now regarded Elissa dangerously. Perhaps she was distracted by her weakness or perhaps she just didn't think they would regain their composure so soon after she killed their mistress. Either way, she never saw the arrows that soared through the air and buried themselves into her body. There were three of them. One went through her shoulder, near her neck. Another lodged itself in her thigh. A third buried itself into the fleshy part of her hip, narrowly missing her belly.

Bleeding from her wounds, she jerked the staff out of the body of what was once Ambrose's wife and leaned heavily against it. She needed to find safety or she would die. Blood poured down her body, gushed down her thighs and dripped hot and red at her feet as she dragged herself closer to the house. Somewhere not far away, she heard a voice screaming her name. Over and over it cried out to her until she glanced up and when she did, her eyes went way up. "Maker…no…!" she whispered. Standing some several feet away from her was an ogre, its massive head lowered, horns leveling as it prepared to charge. She stumbled and almost fell, catching herself on the staff. "Oh but to die after withstanding so much! Is there no justice in this world?" she whimpered as she helplessly watched it flex its body to gore her.

It all happened as if in a dream. Slowly she tried to force the staff to shield her but its power was all but snuffed out. She noted that a few scrapes on her arms were healing from the magic but it refused to do anything more than that. Then, a figure wielding two lyrium-enchanted blades and dressed in black jumped between her and the demon. He shoved her aside and into the sticky, cold ground. Blood and dirt had made the ground ridiculously slippery causing her to slide to the ground on the thigh that was not injured. The man used the creature's forward movement against it and swept his blades up the abdomen of the ogre, the edges drawing intestines out of it body in an arc above them. But the human was not the only one drawing blood in this fight. The horns that were originally meant for Elissa buried themselves into the man's belly. It lifted its head and ripped muscle and skin away, spilling his entrails to the ground in purple loops. The man's blood splattered across Elissa's terrified form.

The ogre's momentum carried it into her savior, shoving both into the blood-slick muck. They ended up laying together, the ogre dead and the man on his back underneath it, moaning. Elissa crawled to the man's side and wiped away the bloody mud caked to her face and hair so that she could see the man more clearly. She held up the staff and pressed it against her rescuer's chest and then her teal eyes met blue. She choked and screamed, _"AMBROSE! No! No! No! No!" _She wept, screaming his name as he gazed up her, blood bubbling from his lips. He spat it out and reached a bloody hand to her face.

He caressed her cheek and tried to smile but it was hard, so hard for him to breathe. "Mon…ce'aire…you are…wounded. My love…" he whispered to her as she sobbed hysterically, her arms around him and her wounds forgotten in her grief. "Shh… All things end and it…it…is my time. I…love…you…"

"Stop! Just…stop! I cannot let you die, Ambrose! Not like this. I love you! I really do love you and I…I would give anything to heal you. Staff! Heal him! Please…if the Maker is real, surely he must feel my sorrow and know that I would give myself to…" she was shushed as he chuckled and curled his fingers around the back of her head, drawing her lips against his. This kiss had the touch of finality and she tasted his blood as he coughed again.

"My…will. Follow it…to…to the letter. My wife's family…must not…not have…" he started coughing and more of the red, sticky fluid sprayed her. She didn't care. Though she was fading quickly from blood-loss and exhaustion herself, she clung to him with desperation. As she wept into his black hair, she opened her eyes to a small, white fox. Its feet were stained red and black with blood and mud. It walked up to them, and jumped onto Ambrose's upper chest. The rest of his body was covered by the ogre, doubtless their internal organs mingling together. Elissa shuddered with the thought as the little creature watched her closely with clear, moss-hued green eyes. Then it started licking her face. A moment later, she slumped unconsciously over the body of Ambrose Fazsile and the white fox retreated, his tail wagging slowly.

The staff that once laid across him, was gone, its magic absorbed completely by the need of one desperate young woman. But she didn't see this. Two elves eventually carried Ambrose's body away. But she didn't see this either. Nor did she see them reverently replacing his internal organs back into his abdomen and cover him, all but his face, in a soft blanket. She never saw them place Ambrose's body on the back of the Halla and she never watched them lead the graceful herbivore away and toward the great forests west.

Finally, she never saw the fox transform into the tall, handsome figure of Veranon Krae as he, weeping softly, walked away.

* * *

She opened her eyes and looked around the room. She was in a bed, covers drawn to her chin. It was soft and warm and she was clean. Gingerly, she pulled herself up to a seated position and looked around the room. Out of habit, she reached a hand for her massive belly and shrieked when she found it wasn't there. Someone ran in, a finger held up, telling her to be patient just a moment before darting around the door-frame. Some moments later, two figures walked in then, one a pretty young teenage girl of about thirteen or fourteen and a taller, blond-haired man Elissa knew was her husband. They each carried an infant, the babies sharing the same red-gold curls and pale skin though one was notably larger than the other.

Alistair sat on the bed and handed her his precious burden. The girl held onto hers though she smiled warmly. "Elissa, I would like you to meet your children. This is Clausette; we've agreed to adopt her as per Ambrose's wishes and the one you are holding is Duncan Bryce. The one in Clausette's arms is Amber Rose. They were born a bit early, even for the advanced gestation the mages put them through. Otherwise, Alainala, the Halamshiral Keeper and the woman who healed you, said you would die."

Amber Rose soon joined her brother and the babies, fussy at first, quickly settled in to nurse at each breast. "You…named them?" Elissa said in awe.

"Well, somebody had to," Alistair chuckled. "There's a lot we have to do before we leave for Ferelden but suffice to say, Empress Celene is in our debt. Yours especially. You saved us all! And Ambrose…he died to save you. We never did find his body. It's the strangest thing! But I was told about what he did and I guess this is the way he wanted to die. For what it's worth, I know what he meant to you and I'm…sorry. It's a small consolation but at least you still have me, right, my love?" Elissa was unsure what to say as she nestled in against her husband and Clausette settled in on the other side of her. The three of them bowed their heads together and began to weep for Ambrose, who was a true hero, Grey Warden, father and lover.

To Be Concluded

The final chapter is an epilogue of sorts. But don't despair…

The story isn't finished…

Tainted Memories is on its way and continues the adventures of Elissa and Alistair. And someone else!


	33. Chapter 33

**Tainted Dreams**

**Part 33 (Conclusion)**

_Welcome to the final installment of Tainted Dreams. I want to thank Tropical Fool for proofing it and making it that much more enjoyable for the rest of you. And thank you to my readers for favoriting and commenting and reading my monster baby. At well over 100K words, this qualifies as a novel in most cases and I wonder just exactly how I will be able to top it. There is a sequel that hopes to make things interesting and I don't know how it will tie into DA2. It's likely going to have a lot of non-canon stuff in it; however, it will be similar to non-use of canon that employed in this so it should be palatable. As with Tainted1, Tainted2 will mostly take place outside of Ferelden due to the fact that I can play a bit more. Now, if the game throws something in my face courtesy of DAII (Anders was supposed to have been supporting cast in the sequel and is not anymore, for example,) I will unhappily revise. I do like insert originality without losing the tone of what I'm writing about. It's a fine balance. So Tainted Fans, keep reading because (loosely titled) _**Tainted Memories**_ is right around the corner!_

Conclusion: The Will of Ambrose Fazsile

Garrick walked in wearing a smile that lit up the room. Elissa, having nursed her adorable little ones, sat in a gown as regal as she didn't feel at the moment. She thought she looked disheveled and uninspiring though the dress seemed to alleviate some of that. Clauzette handed Amber Rose to Elissa and leapt to her feet as she rushed the Templar with a squeal and threw her arms around his waist. He laughed and, balancing on his cane and his good foot, Garrick returned the hug as much as he could. "Garrick saved my life, your maje-uh-Elissa! He tried to save Lawson's too but my brother was stubborn. He'd have made a fine Grey Warden if you ask me. He readily sacrificed himself for my sake so that the Blood Mage Garrick had bribed into watching us could keep me alive. I owe him everything."

The Templar blushed so red his cheeks rivaled Alistair's for the sheer deep hue of them. They reminded her of the first time her own Templar saw Elissa naked. *Ah, I …well, I just set it up so that she kept her brethren from harming you both after the Abomination gave the go ahead to kill you. I think she had fallen for your brother by that time. Did he at least lose his virginity first?* The final thought was a stray and Elissa's expression told him that she and the girl had both heard him. *What happened exactly?* he asked, trying to ignore his previous comment.

The girl smiled sadly and hooked her slender arm through his. "Well…The Blood Mages had begun torturing me. It was…bad. I guess I won't be marrying as a virgin myself, thanks to them…"

*Maker's BREATH! They _raped_ you?* Another stray thought but valid. The girl looked away and nodded slowly.

"They used…implements. I had given up, I think. They were feeding off the power released by my blood, fear and pain. That was when your mage stepped in and freed my brother. Together, they killed or caused the other mages to flee. They were in shock! Then Garrick walked in and used his own powers against mages to kill or shut down the rest. There was a fight, I think, but I was dying. My brother, Lawson, begged the mage, Demica was her name, I think, to save my life. But without a blood sacrifice, she couldn't do it. He offered up his own life because he was already mortally wounded. It would be better to save one child if one had to die anyway. The mage argued, I think…" Garrick nodded, encouraging her to continue.

In Elissa's mind, images from Garrick's memories flooded through her. The boy, eighteen and bleeding from a nasty wound in his side, begged the young Blood Mage, offering his own life in return. Why the sister? Because she was Ambrose's true daughter and the son was born of another man. It was the son's gift to the father that raised him: his natural child kept alive through an act of evil for an act of love.

The mage cast her spells and traced the dying girl with runes created from Lawson's dark blood mingled with her own. She kissed him farewell before raising a dagger to deal the final killing blow. Magic flooded the room, blinding everyone within and killing both the boy and the mage, who tumbled together in an eternal embrace within the ruins of the girl's bedroom. Garrick then lifted the dazed teenager and dragged her small protesting form out of the room to safety. "I owe him my life…"

*Which reminds me, Your Majesty…or is it 'commander?' For this request, it should be 'commander' I think. Um, how do I say this…* An image crossed Elissa's mind of him sticking his tongue out at the Templar Commander as he proudly displays his Grey Warden credentials and thus his immunity to chantry laws forbidding the fraternization between Templars and mages, especially apostates. It made her smile.

"Let me guess… You want me to conscript you?" she said, grinning as she bounced her tiny babies in her lap.

He peered at her shyly. *Ah… Yes. You see, it was my desire to aid my beloved Malificar that put us in the situation that started all of this. Technically, I should face the punishment they decree, and that will either a permanent stay in a lovely facility for us naughty sorts or death. Either way, it would mean the loss of my head and not something I look forward to. I've discussed it at length with King Alistair and he said it's up to you so… Um…will you?*

Elissa handed her babies to the girl, who happily took them to the crib the Empress set up next to the bed. She took Garrick's hands in hers with a gentle smile. "Now is not a time of need, my friend. Conscription is something we Wardens do but sparingly to avoid the problems that got us ostracized in Ferelden. However, if you are willing to go before witnesses and volunteer, I would happily accept you. We would do it among the Orlesian Grey Wardens and I will deliver the joining myself. Is this truly your wish? Taking the Joining could mean your death, my friend."

*Not taking the joining will guarantee my death. I'd rather half a chance at a life than no chance at all. The Chantry has no concept of true justice, you know. A Templar breaks a law and that's it… Judged and you're done for. I'll take my chances with the Wardens, if you don't mind.*

Laughing, Elissa hugged Garrick just in time to see Alistair approaching with a handful of papers. He took her in his arms and pressed her against him, his mouth on hers in a long, wonderful kiss. "My love, it's so good to see you up and about. Will you walk with me? I have something to share that you could not be present for during its initial reading. Clauzette, would you mind watching the little ones?"

The girl shook her head and sat in the rocking chair that sat next to the crib. Smiling, she started singing Orlesian lullabies as the royal couple left the room.

Elissa, reassured that her children were in good company, happily reached for his hand, but he evaded her and slid his arm around her instead. "Is it Ambrose's will, my love?"

He nodded. "Sort of. This is his letter to us. It talks about the will a bit but it's not nearly as dull. He listed to whom he wanted to give his _socks_! Veranon read it to us the day following the battle. He was pressed for time for whatever reason but insisted on us hearing it. The letter is the most important part and the most…touching. Oh and Ambrose's former mother in law is causing trouble. She's convinced he's cheated her family out of their rightful inheritance. The magistrate signed off on the will when she openly challenged it. Then she was escorted out of the courthouse by her scrawny arms by the guard. It was pretty funny, really. Her greedy daughter then tried to grab Clauzette, who zapped her with a bit of electricity. Quite funny, really. She wants to come live with us and meet all those handsome Fereldan boys. Maker's breath…what is it with you women?"

"Anyway…" He led her outside to the Empress' private arbor and they sat down on a bench together. Around them, things bloomed out of season in the warm air of the secluded garden and birds sang happily among the trees. Whether magical or solid, the roof of the arbor was hard to discern, but it certainly seemed to keep the creatures and the heat in and the weather out. The scent of flowers and cool water was delightfully pleasant in light of what she feared she was about to read. She nestled in Alistair's arms, against his broad chest, as she took the papers from him. They were written in the neatest, prettiest script she'd ever seen come from a man's hand. Even Alistair's neat letters could not compare. This was art! "I'm here for you, Love…" Elissa smiled but said nothing as she read the letter. Then the tears came…

_Dear Friends,  
Dear Lovers…_

_If you are reading this, I am either dead or dying or Veranon has panicked and given this to you in the hopes of having you stop me from martyring myself. He's like that, you know. I think the fool loves me. I hope he knows that I love him too. Without him, I'd be a destitute soul begging for alms on the street corners. Thank the maker for good partners, I say; the boy is a fine entrepreneur and a savvy investor. And it's for those reasons that he is to remain in charge of the business. If he wants to own it, it's his; otherwise, it belongs to you, Elissa, Alistair. However, even if he turns down ownership, I still want him to run it. SOMEONE has to hire people to exterminate giant rats from merchants' cellars! And make a killing in the process, I'll add…_

_Next, my daughter is to go to Ferelden with you, Mon ce'aire, if she chooses to. If she chooses instead to remain in Orlais with her grandmother, I am afraid that her inheritance, which includes the lands of Desperia and a sizable amount of gold, will be in trust to you or her brother until she is twenty-one. Otherwise, she will get her inheritance at eighteen. Please seek mage training for my daughter. She shows much promise, but get that training outside the confines of the Tower. Butterflies are more beautiful when left free to spread their wings and fly, after all. Also, there is quite a bit of jewelry I have given to my wife over the years. You and my daughter are welcome to it. Whatever she does not desire, Mon ce'aire, is yours. That is assuming, of course, that my wife perished in the course of your stopping the abomination. Whatever you do, keep her mother's hands off of it!_

_You may notice that I left my son, Lawson, out of the custody part. He is plenty old enough and wise enough to his grandmother's wicked ways to handle himself. His destiny is his own, though I will leave any weapons and armor he desires so that he may pursue that destiny. Anything he doesn't want goes to Veranon for the business, or to you if there is a specific piece you desire. There's an entire room full in Lydes and Desperia has an impressive armory full of stuff. His specific inheritance is listed in the actual will. He too will have a stake in Desperia if he wants it, though he's often claimed that a noble's life is far from his ideal existence._

_Now the hard part of this letter. I am writing this the night of the Lover's Ball and after deciding not to go, but Veranon has just convinced me that I have to go. You see, there is something about you, Elissa, that calls to me. It's not merely sexual, though doubtless that is part of it. No, it is so much more than that. You are like rain to the barren landscape of my soul and you give this life purpose. You give me hope that maybe, just maybe, the Calling isn't the end of my destiny. Sadly, since you are reading this I must not have to worry about the Calling anymore. My feelings for you transcend friendship, and I, for one, am proud of it. Alistair, over the weeks, I feel that I grew closer to you, closer than I have to any man other than Veranon. If he was my anchor, you gave me wings. King and a Grey Warden, you epitomize everything that a man can aspire to become and I am honored to have known you. _

_I find myself running out of things to say at this juncture. Well, I could say that I love you, both but doubtless you knew this. I do want to say that I wish I'd trusted you sooner. So convinced I was that she could kill my children with only my thoughts to provoke her that I feared even thinking about seeking aid from you. I want to say that I was wrong. Hindsight being what it is, I do hope I managed to tell you everything before I got myself killed. Forgive me. I wish you luck on your road ahead and hope that love finds you wherever you travel. Oh and Alistair? Keep a leash on that woman! She's quite the vixen, you know!_

_Good luck and good fortune, Sincerely…_

_Ambrose Fazsile_

_Lydes, Orlais_

Elissa was sobbing by the end of the letter and held Alistair tightly. There was very little for either of them to say so they rose and walked back to the rooms.

The king and Queen did return home in good time. They had left during the late autumn months and arrived back in Ferelden during the height of summer. The people were delighted for their return and swarmed the new arrivals as Alistair and Elissa protectively, if proudly, held their babies against the press of the crowd. News from Redcliffe, sadly, was bad. Eamon, having never fully recovered from his close brush with death, finally had died. His brother, Bann Teagan, now Arl Teagan, held the lands his brother had watched over for many years. Curiously, he had a young woman by his side that Elissa had never seen before. The terminally single man had finally caught himself a lovely lass and all during the time she was gone. There was a lovely story in there that she desperately wanted to hear.

Fergus was happy to see them and gave her his own good news; his wife had given birth some months ago and was pregnant again. Well, if nothing else, the girl was decent as a brood mare, Alistair decided of Fergus' wife. The nobles' sons were beside themselves at the sight of the lovely Clauzette and Alistair felt himself prickling protectively as he laid down certain laws pertaining to his new daughter. Elissa decided at that point that she had chosen the perfect man to have children with; he could handle the whims of a teenager and a diaper all at the same time.

Garrick did pass his Joining but no sooner had they returned with him than the Templars tried to retain custody of him. Elissa and the king stood up to them, and refused to let them have him, much as Elissa had stood up to the Templars on behalf of Anders once. She was used to dealing with them, and not unexpectedly they met their fate in the same way Anders' would-be captors met theirs. He became quite popular in Amaranthine and among the Wardens in general. His new ability came with an unprecedented gift: if he "listened" he could hear the thoughts of others. It took concentration but it was possible and it came in quite handy in many situations. Varrel suddenly began inviting him to court functions.

Eventually, they created a statue dedicated to the memories of those Grey Wardens who have died during the years since Orlais was ousted from Fereldan lands. If there was irony that two names on the statue were Orlesian, nobody really cared. The people found the bronze and stone statue of a Grey Warden, sword aloft and a Hurlock Alpha dead at his feet, stirring. Names would doubtlessly be added, but for now three stood out prominently. The day after it appeared in the courtyard outside the palace gates, wreaths were placed and flowers laid about it. A lot of flowers. Someone even placed a stuffed bear at the base of it. The people of Ferelden would never forget the sacrifices made by the Grey Wardens again.

But even as a peace settled across Denerim and Ferelden, not all was perfect in the world. In Orlais, at the Grand Cathedral, a new White Divine had been brought forth to power; a woman whose desire for control of mages and of elves trumped sanity. In her mind that which the Chantry could not control must be destroyed and even the Grey Wardens' mages and elves were no longer safe from her persecution…

**To Be Continued in Tainted Memories,**

**The Sequel to Tainted Dreams**


End file.
